The Fault Lies in the Soil

The sun is coming up, and the house feels different than it did yesterday. In the quiet of this early light, the weight settles on your chest: if you had been better, quieter, less difficult, maybe they would have stayed.

But listen to the truth that arrives with the dawn. When the disciples saw a man born blind, they asked whose sin caused it—his or his parents'.

The light answered plainly: neither. Some things break not because of what you did, but simply because the world is broken.

You are not the architect of this collapse. The fault lies in the soil, not in the seed.

Go home and tell them how much the light has done for you, and how it showed you mercy when you thought you deserved none. The morning does not ask you to fix the night.

It only asks you to rise.