The Sap Still Flows In Winter

The afternoon sun feels heavy today, like a weight you no longer have the strength to carry. You move through the motions of the day, but inside, there is a quiet terror that the part of you capable of joy has simply died.

It feels like a permanent winter, a numbness that no amount of busywork can thaw. But listen — there is a promise hidden in the dust of this long middle: I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.

Not a shadow of life. Not a memory of it.

But life to the full. The light does not ask you to manufacture joy from your exhaustion.

It only asks you to remain. Stay connected to the vine, even when you feel like a branch that has forgotten how to bloom.

The sap is still flowing, even if you cannot feel it yet. Joy is not something you must earn back; it is something you will receive again, unbidden, when the season turns.