The Light Sees You Before You See Yourself

The afternoon light is unforgiving when it hits the bathroom mirror at the wrong angle. You stare at the face looking back — the tired eyes, the set of the jaw — and wonder who this stranger is.

It feels like you are wearing someone else's skin, someone who has forgotten how to be whole. But the light does not require you to recognize yourself before it can see you.

There was a man born blind, not as punishment, but so that the works of God might be displayed in him. Your confusion, this disconnect between who you were and who you are becoming, is not a failure.

It is the canvas. The light is not waiting for you to fix the reflection.

It is already working in the dark, making everything new from the inside out.