Your Weariness Is An Invitation

The afternoon sun is heavy, and you are holding up the roof of your family's world with your own two arms. You are afraid that if you finally let them see how tired you are, the whole structure will collapse on top of them.

You think your silence is their shelter. But the light does not need you to be a pillar of stone to dwell in your home.

There was a woman who had been bleeding for twelve years, convinced that her brokenness would make everyone around her unclean, so she tried to hide in the crowd. She thought she had to be whole before she could be near anyone.

But when she finally reached out from her exhaustion, the light did not recoil. It stopped.

It turned. It called her daughter.

Your weariness is not a contagion. It is an invitation for the light to come in and hold the weight you were never meant to carry alone.

You do not have to be the foundation. The light is already there, waiting for you to put the burden down.