Stop Digging Through the Ash
The screen glows in the dark room, casting long shadows as you scroll back through three years of words. You are hunting for the exact sentence where the tone shifted, pretending you missed the warning signs so you can forgive yourself for not seeing them sooner.
But the light was there all along, even in the paragraphs you wrote while blind to it. A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.
You were not failing to see; you were surviving the smoke. Stop digging through the ash to find where you went wrong.
The fire never went out; it was just waiting for you to stop blowing on the embers and let it breathe.
Drawing from
Matthew 12:20, Gospel of Thomas 10
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