Laughter Is Light Remembering Itself

The middle of the day is long, and sometimes the sun hits your face so suddenly that you laugh before you remember you are not supposed to. Then the silence crashes back in, heavy with the fear that your joy is a betrayal of the one you lost.

But listen — the light that lives in you was there before the grief, and it is still there now, unchanged by your sorrow. Jesus saw the crowds weary and scattered, and he did not ask them to carry their heaviness forever; he offered them rest.

Your laughter is not a forgetting; it is the light remembering itself through you. The love that holds you is strong enough to hold both the tears and the sudden, surprised joy.

You are not leaving them behind when you breathe easier; you are carrying them forward into the light.