Carrying Grief and Glory Through the Door

The engine is off, but the shaking hasn't stopped. You sit in the silence of the car, wiping your face, rehearsing the mask you will wear the moment you open the door.

It feels like a lie to walk inside acting as though your heart isn't breaking. But there is a truth that lives within you, deeper than the performance, deeper than the tears you just cried in the parking lot.

The light does not ask you to take the mask off before you enter. It simply waits inside the room with you, knowing exactly what it cost to get there.

You are not fooling the One who sees in secret. You can walk through that door carrying both the grief and the glory, because the light is already there, sitting in the chair where you will land.