You Are the Child, Not the Hired Hand

The day is done. The noise has settled.

And now comes the quiet terror that if you stop fixing everyone's problems, they will finally see there is nothing valuable inside you to love. You are afraid that your worth is only in what you can carry for others.

But listen — the light does not love you for your labor. It loves you because you are its own.

There was a father who watched the road every day, not because his son had earned a return, but because the son was his. The father ran before the apology was even spoken.

The embrace came first. The feast was prepared before the son changed his clothes.

You do not have to earn your place at the table by serving the meal. You are the child, not the hired hand.

The light sees the exhaustion behind your eyes and says: stop. Put the burden down.

Sit. The love is not a wage you receive for work done.

It is a gift that was given before you drew your first breath. If you stop moving, the love does not vanish.

It finally has room to reach you.