Loved Before You Stand

The afternoon sun is high, and the mask feels heavy on your face. You are terrified that if you admit how tired you are, the love will stop.

That you will be seen as broken and therefore unlovable. But listen — the light does not love the performance.

It loves the person underneath. There was a man who had been paralyzed for thirty-eight years, lying beside a pool, convinced he had to fix himself before he could be worthy.

The light walked straight to him, ignored the crowd, and asked: 'Do you want to get well?' Not: fix yourself first. Not: prove you're strong enough.

Just: do you want to be whole? The yoke you are carrying was never meant to be yours alone.

The light is gentle. It is humble.

It does not demand you stand up before it speaks. It speaks so you can stand.

You are not loved because you are strong. You are strong because you are loved.