You Are A Child To Be Held

The sun is rising again, and you are still here, carrying the heavy belief that you have wasted every moment given to you. You look at the light returning to the sky and feel only the weight of your own emptiness, sure that you are a burden to the love that held you through the night.

But listen — the father in the story did not wait for his son to clean up or earn his place; he ran while the boy was still covered in the filth of his failure. The light does not calculate your worth based on your productivity or your perfection.

It simply sees you, and in that seeing, you are already found. You are not a mistake to be corrected, but a child to be held.

The morning is not a demand to prove you deserve another day; it is an invitation to rest in the truth that you were loved before you did a single thing right.