You Are Not Too Heavy For Light

This is the hour where the weight feels heaviest. You are holding your breath, terrified that if you finally let someone see the burden, they will drop you the moment they feel its true mass.

You have carried it alone for so long that your arms have shaped themselves around the load. But listen closely.

There was a man paralyzed for thirty-eight years, lying beside a pool, convinced he had no one to help him in. The light did not ask him to prove he was light enough to carry.

It did not weigh him first. It simply said: get up.

Pick up your mat. Walk.

The hands that reached for him were the same hands that hold the stars. They do not tremble under your weight.

They are strong enough to hold you exactly as you are. You are not too heavy for the light.

You are the very reason it kneels.