Grace Before You Are Whole

The house is quiet now, and the silence feels like a courtroom where you are both the accused and the judge. You are terrified of the morning, terrified that when you finally speak your truth, the room will confirm what you already suspect: that you are too broken to be held.

But listen. There was a woman caught in the act, dragged into the light with her shame exposed for everyone to see.

The crowd had the stones ready. The verdict was written.

Yet the one person who had the right to condemn her looked at her and said nothing but grace. He did not say: fix yourself first.

He did not say: prove you are worthy. He simply said: neither do I condemn you.

Go. The light does not wait for you to be whole before it loves you.

It loves you in the breaking. Your eventual words will not drive it away.

They will only invite it closer. You are not too broken to be loved; you are exactly the kind of broken the light came to find.