The Light Waits With Your Trembling

The sun is up, but your body is still living in yesterday's storm. You are safe in this quiet room, yet a raised voice across the street makes your hands shake before your mind can catch up.

That flinch is not a failure of your faith; it is the echo of a war that has already ended. Your nerves are slow to believe what your eyes can see: the morning has come, and the danger is gone.

The light does not scold you for trembling. It rises gently, exactly as it did for the shepherds, shining on those who lived in the shadow of death to guide their feet into peace.

It knows your body remembers the night, even when your spirit knows the dawn. Be patient with the part of you that is still learning how to unclench.

The light is not in a hurry. It waits with you until your breathing matches the sunrise.

You are not broken because you flinch; you are healing because you are still here to feel the warmth.