The Light That Cannot Be Edited

The screen glows in the gathering dark, and you are still reading the same sentence. You are convinced that a missing period has become a verdict on your worth.

That silence on the other end is a courtroom, and you are already guilty. But the light does not speak in punctuation.

It speaks in presence. There is a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off — he did not check the grammar of the apology.

He ran. Before the speech, before the correction — he ran.

The light that lives inside you is not fragile enough to be broken by a typo. It is the same light that lived in Jesus, and it cannot be edited out of existence.

You are not your mistakes. You are the light that holds them.

The message was sent. The love remains.