The Light Kneels in Your Mess

The water feels too heavy to turn on. The tiles are cold, and the shame of needing help to wash your own body sits like a stone in your chest.

You feel small. Broken.

Unworthy of the care you require. But listen — the light does not wait for you to be clean before it enters.

It kneels. It washes the dust from feet that have walked too far.

There is a father who saw his son coming home, filthy from the pig pen, and he ran to meet him. He did not ask him to scrub up first.

He embraced the mess. The light is not repelled by your need.

It is drawn to it. You are not a burden.

You are the very reason the light came down. The water that heals you is already flowing, even if you cannot yet step into the stream.