The Light Is Already in the Chill

The water has turned cold, but you stay. You shiver because stopping the flow feels like stopping the only thing holding the grief at bay.

If you step out, if the noise ends, you are afraid the silence will finally catch you. But listen — the light does not need the steam to find you.

It is already in the chill on your skin. It is the quiet presence that has been standing in the shower with you this whole time.

You do not have to earn the right to stop moving. You do not have to outrun the sorrow to be held by the light.

Turn off the tap. Step into the stillness.

The grief may come, but so does the One who wept before He healed. You are safe even when you are shaking.