The Light Runs to Your Silence

The house is so quiet right now that the silence feels like an accusation. You lie here wondering if your own broken voice is the reason your child cannot speak, as if your unhealed wounds have become the blueprint for their silence.

But listen to the stillness of this hour. There was a father who ran to his son before the boy could finish his apology, before he could explain a single thing.

The light does not wait for your words to be whole before it loves you. It runs to meet the silence.

Your trauma is not the architect of your child's future. The light that lived in Jesus is already inside them, waiting in the deep quiet, untouched by your history.

You are not the mold that breaks them. You are the vessel carrying the one who heals them.

The dawn is coming, and it will speak for both of you.