Light in the Quiet Room

The sun is up, but the house feels empty where their voices used to be. You made it through the night, yet the silence of a fractured family is a heavy thing to carry into the morning light.

There was a man born blind, and his friends asked whose sin had closed his eyes—his or his parents'. The light answered that no one was to blame, only that the works of God might be displayed in him.

Your estrangement is not a verdict on your worth or a punishment for a mistake. It is simply the ground where you stand right now.

The kingdom is not a distant reunion you must earn by fixing the past. The kingdom is inside you, even in this brokenness.

You do not need to wait for their return to be whole. The light that holds you is already here, in this quiet room, in this new day.