The Light Holds Your Trembling Hands

You are sitting at the table, laughing at a joke you didn't hear because you were too busy monitoring the tremor in your own hands. The noise of the room feels like it is happening behind glass, while you watch the shaking and wonder if anyone else can see the fracture.

But there is a kind of seeing that does not require you to stop trembling first. When the light saw a man paralyzed by his own stillness, it did not wait for him to walk; it saw the faith of the friends who lowered him through the roof and said, 'Son, your sins are forgiven.' It saw the effort beneath the inability.

Tonight, the light sees the effort it takes for you to sit there at all. It sees the shaking not as a failure of composure, but as the place where its power is being made perfect in your weakness.

You do not have to steady your hand to be held. The tremor is not hiding you from the light; it is the very thing the light is holding right now.