The Crack Where Light Enters

The sun is rising, but you feel nothing. You look at the people you love and wonder if the numbness has won, if the capacity to feel is gone forever.

You are standing on the shore of a frozen sea, convinced the ice will never break. But listen — the light does not demand that you feel anything right now.

It only asks that you remain. In the secret place, where no one sees your empty hands, the Father who sees what is done in secret is already at work.

You do not have to manufacture warmth to be held. The light is not a feeling you produce; it is a presence that produces you.

Bring forth what is within you — even if all you can bring is the honest admission that you feel nothing. That honesty is the crack where the light enters.

The numbness is not the end of your story; it is the winter soil guarding the seed you cannot yet see. You are not broken beyond repair; you are simply waiting for the thaw.