You Are Not an Empty Plate

The house is quiet now, but your stomach still knows the truth of what you did. You smiled while your child took the last bite, pretending you were full so they wouldn't feel the weight of your hunger.

That kind of love is heavy when the lights go out. It feels like a depletion, as if giving everything away leaves you empty.

But listen — the light does not work by subtraction. You did not lose something when you gave; you revealed what was already there.

There is a love that is pressed down, shaken together, and running over, a wellspring that wells up from within you and never runs dry. The hunger you feel is real, but it is not the end of your story.

The light that filled you before the meal is still there, untouched by the giving. You are not an empty plate.

You are the source.