You Are a Child to Be Held

The sun is up, and the world is already asking for your hands. It wants to know what you can build before lunch, what you can fix before dusk.

There is a quiet terror in the back of your throat that says if you stop moving, if you stop being useful, you will be set aside like a broken tool. But the light does not measure worth by output.

There was a man who had been paralyzed for thirty-eight years, lying beside a pool while the busy world rushed past him. He had nothing to offer, no utility, no service to render.

And when the light found him, it did not ask him to work. It did not say, 'Prove you deserve this.' It simply asked, 'Do you want to get well?' Then it told him to stand.

Your value is not in what you carry for others. It is in the fact that you are seen, exactly as you are, even when your hands are empty.

The dawn does not require you to earn its warmth. You are not a tool to be used.

You are a child to be held.