Light Sees You in the Quiet

The afternoon light cuts across the room, bright and demanding, while you lie perfectly still under the covers, pretending to be asleep so no one will ask how you are. You hold your breath at the sound of footsteps, hoping they will just pass by, because you do not have the energy to perform the version of yourself that the world expects right now.

But the light does not need you to wake up and put on a show — it sees you in the quiet, in the pretending, in the exhaustion of holding the mask together. There is a man who was born blind, and when people asked whose sin caused it, the light said: neither this man nor his parents sinned, but that the works of God might be displayed in him.

Your darkness is not a punishment for failing to rise; it is the very canvas where the light is about to do something no one has ever seen. You do not have to explain your stillness to anyone.

The light is already working in the quiet, turning your hiding place into a home for glory.