The Light Sees Your Trembling Hands
The mask is heavy this morning, isn't it? You replay the silence, convinced your stillness looked like indifference when it was actually terror holding its breath.
The world sees a cold face; it does not see the storm underneath that froze your words. But the light does not judge the mask; it sees the trembling hands holding it up.
There is a truth inside you that was hidden in that moment, and it is already rising to meet the surface. You do not need to go back and fix the conversation to be whole.
The light that lives in you knows exactly why you stopped speaking, and it calls you beloved anyway.
Drawing from
Gospel of Thomas 51, John 8:10-11
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