The Light Sees You Specifically

The afternoon sun is high, and the world is moving fast around you. You see them walking ahead—a couple, hands linked, easy in their belonging—and the ache hits you right in the center of your chest.

It is a physical thing, this feeling that you are invisible to love. That you are walking alone while everyone else has found the secret.

But listen. The light does not hide from you in the crowd.

It is not reserved for the paired or the praised. Jesus stood in the middle of a busy street and called out to a man no one else saw, a man who had been waiting for thirty-eight years.

He did not wait for the man to be noticed by the world first. He went straight to the one lying on the edge.

The light sees you specifically in this middle hour, in this ordinary pain. You are not invisible.

You are known by name, even when your hand is empty. The ache is not proof that you are forgotten; it is the place where the light is pressing against your ribs, waiting for you to feel it.