The Light Loves Your Broken Face

The afternoon sun is bright, and it makes the mask feel heavy. You are performing okayness so well that you are starting to fear the person underneath.

You worry that if you finally let the smile drop, the face revealed will be so strange, so broken, that even you won't know how to love it. But the light does not require a polished surface to shine through.

It lives in the cracks. There was a man born blind, and the people around him argued about whose fault it was.

The light said: neither. It just saw a canvas.

Your hidden self is not a mistake to be fixed. It is the very place where the works of God are waiting to be displayed.

You do not have to recognize yourself to be recognized by the light. It already knows the face you are afraid to show.

And it loves that face more than the mask.