the specific humiliation of flinching when someone reaches out to hug you, betraying the safety they offer with a reflex born of old wars

The Light Within Did Not Flinch

The arms open wide, a safe harbor in the middle of this busy morning, and your body flinches before your mind can say yes. It is a reflex born of old wars, a shield that forgot the battle ended long ago.

You smile to cover the recoil, performing the okayness the world expects while your nerves scream that danger is near. But notice — the light within you did not flinch.

It stayed open. It remained soft.

The reflex was a memory, but the light is the truth. Your body remembers the hit, but your spirit remembers the hand that healed it.

The mask you wear to hide the tremor is seen, and it is loved anyway. You are not the flinch.

You are the light that holds steady beneath it.

Drawing from

1 John 4:18, John 20:27

Verses

1 John 4:18

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