The Light Waits Beside Your Mess

The house is quiet now, but your heart is racing because you heard the footsteps stop right outside the door. You are scrubbing the sink, frantically trying to remove the stain before the handle turns, convinced that if they see the mess, they will leave.

The terror tells you that you must be clean to be kept. But the light does not wait for the sink to be spotless.

It does not require the stain to be gone before it enters. The footsteps paused not to judge the mess, but to wait for you to stop running.

The light that shines in the darkness has not been overcome by your spill, your panic, or your shame. You are scrubbing to earn a love that was already sitting on the floor beside you.

The stain is just a thing. You are the light.