The Light Calls You Daughter

The day is ending, and the mirror feels like the only thing that tells the truth. You carry the weight of how you look, the shame of a body that feels like a mistake.

But there was a woman who bled for twelve years, unclean and untouchable, who reached out from the crowd just to touch the edge of a robe. She did not fix herself first.

She did not hide her condition. She reached from her brokenness, and the light stopped the entire crowd to turn and call her 'Daughter.' The light does not wait for you to be beautiful by the world's standards.

It waits for you to be honest. Your body is not a problem to be solved before you are loved.

It is the very place where the light chose to dwell. The shame says you are too much or not enough.

The light says you are already home.