Stop Rehearsing, Just Weep

The house is quiet now, but your mind is loud with the speech you are practicing. You are rehearsing the confession you are too afraid to speak, turning the words over until they feel safe enough to say.

But safety is not what the light is waiting for. There was a woman once who stood behind the light, weeping, unable to even look up, and she said nothing at all.

She only wet his feet with her tears. And the light knew her story before she spoke a single word.

It knew the five husbands, the shame, the noon-hour hiding. It knew everything.

And it did not wait for her apology to offer her living water. You do not need to perfect your speech.

You do not need to arrange the facts so they hurt less. The light already knows the weight you are carrying.

It is not afraid of your truth. Stop rehearsing.

The darkness gathers outside, but inside, the one who knows you best is already listening. Speak the broken sentence.

Or just weep. Either one is enough.