The Light Knows Your Shame Already

The bathroom door has closed behind you, and now the silence is loud enough to hear your own heartbeat. You are staring at the screen, thumb hovering over a name, paralyzed by the fear that speaking the truth will make the shame real.

But the light does not wait for you to be perfect before it draws near. There was a woman once who stood behind the teacher, weeping so hard she could not speak, only wetting his feet with her tears.

He did not ask for her resume. He did not ask for her explanation.

He said: her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown. The love was the evidence, not the apology.

You came from the light, the place where light generates itself, and that origin cannot be erased by a text message. The thing you are hiding is not stronger than the thing you are made of.

Speak the word. The shame is already known, and it is already held.