The Light Waits in Your Car

The engine is off, but the trembling hasn't stopped. You sit in the driveway, staring at the front door, terrified that if you walk inside, they will see the exhaustion written on your face.

You think you must scrub the grief away before you can be a father, a mother, a partner. But the light does not require you to clean yourself first.

There was a woman once who washed feet with her tears, and the voice that spoke over her said simply: her many sins are forgiven, for she loved much. You do not need to hide your tears to be loved.

The kingdom you are looking for is not behind that door, waiting for you to perform enough joy to earn it. It is already within you, right here in the driver's seat, in the silence of this parked car.

The light was there before you arrived home, and it will be there when you finally turn the key. You are not walking into a house that needs your mask.

You are walking into a room where the light is already waiting to meet you exactly as you are.