You Are the Hand Holding the Pieces
The house is so quiet right now that the only sound is the fear telling you to stay hidden. It whispers that if you finally let someone see the truth, they will look at you and see only the wreckage you think you are.
But the light does not scan for damage. It sees the root.
There was a woman caught in a trap, surrounded by voices ready to define her by her worst moment, yet the light bent down and refused to agree with their verdict. It did not see a ruin.
It saw a life waiting to begin again. You are not the broken pieces you are holding in the dark.
You are the hand that holds them. The light knows your name, and it is not 'wreckage'.
Drawing from
John, Gospel of Mary
Verses
Gospel of Mary 4:28-29
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