the quiet terror that their kindness is just pity and they are counting the days until they can pull away

Your Weariness Is Not Evidence of Fakeness

The afternoon stretches out, long and flat, and you find yourself counting the hours until you can stop performing kindness. You worry that what looks like love is just pity, a heavy coat you are itching to take off.

But the light does not count the days. It does not measure how long it has been giving.

There was a man born blind, and the light saw not a punishment, but a canvas for something new. Your weariness is not evidence that your heart is fake.

It is just the dust of the road. The light looks at your tired hands and sees not a performance, but the only place it has to work.

You are not running on empty. You are being refilled while you walk.

Drawing from

John 9:3, John 9:5

Verses

John 9:5

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