The Light Finds the Broken Voice
The afternoon stretches out, a long middle where the memory of your voice cracking plays on a loop. You hear the tremor, the break, and you decide in that instant that you didn't deserve to be heard.
But the light does not demand a steady tone. It sees the bruised reed and refuses to break it.
It knows the smoldering wick and will not snuff it out. Your weakness is not a disqualification; it is the very place where the gentlest presence meets you.
You are not too damaged to speak. You are exactly who the light came to find.
Drawing from
Matthew 12:20, Matthew 11:28-30
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