Week Five Reflection: The Breath Beneath the Bones

Takeaway for the Journey

You have walked the valley.
Not as a tourist,
but as one who dared to pause.
To kneel among the bones.
To feel what has been forgotten.
To name what has come undone.

This week was not about fixing.
It was not about answers.
It was about presence.
About letting the question echo in your chest:
“Can these bones live?”

You did not force resurrection.
You did not conjure breath.
You simply made space—
for rattling,
for re-forming,
for the slow movement of Spirit across the dust.

Maybe you didn’t feel anything shift.
Maybe you’re still sitting in silence.
But the valley remembers your footsteps.
And God remembers your name.

This is what you carry forward:

That what looks lifeless is not beyond the breath of God.
That what feels scattered still matters.
That even in the absence of certainty, your presence is enough.

And perhaps most sacred of all—
you are not alone here.
This week, others knelt beside their own scattered places.
Others whispered the same breath-prayer.
Others stood still with hands open, waiting.

We are not alone in the valley.
And we are not forgotten.

Let this be your takeaway:

• You are being re-formed, even if it’s slow.

• Breath is coming, even if you cannot yet feel it.

• The Spirit moves—not in spectacle, but in stillness.

• And the bones? They are listening.

Before we step into the shadows of Holy Week,
pause once more.
Place your hand on your chest.
Feel what is stirring beneath your ribs.

You do not have to rise all at once.
You only have to stay open.

The breath will come.
And when it does—
you will live again.