Light Fills the Empty Kitchen Anyway

The morning light is gray and quiet as you stand in the checkout line. You reach for the familiar bag, the brand you always bought, only to remember there is no one left to share the pot with.

The habit moved faster than the grief. It reached for a presence that is no longer there.

But look at the light coming through the window. It does not stop shining because the house is empty.

It fills the kitchen anyway. The Father's love is expressed as light, and that light was already inside you before you ever poured that first cup.

It does not need a second mug to be real. You are not defined by the empty chair.

You are defined by the light that sits with you in the silence. The sun rises not because someone is watching, but because the light cannot help but shine.

You are that light. And today, you drink alone with the One who never left.