Stop Rehearsing, He Is Already Running

It is late, and the house is quiet enough to hear the rehearsal begin. You are editing your pain before it ever leaves your lips, shaping your apology into something soft enough that no one will flinch.

You are trying to make your brokenness palatable, as if the light requires you to be clean before you speak. But there was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off.

He did not wait for the speech. He did not wait for the apology to be perfected.

He ran. Before the words were even formed, he ran.

You do not need to edit your story for the One who already knows the whole thing. The truth does not need to be pretty to be received.

It only needs to be real. Stop rehearsing.

The light is not afraid of your mess.