The Light Runs Toward You

The house is quiet now, and the mask you wore all day has finally fallen into your lap. It is heavy, this performance of being okay when you are breaking inside.

You feel like a stranger in your own skin, terrified that if anyone saw the real you, they would walk away. But the light does not need your performance — it only needs your presence.

There is a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off, covered in the filth of his failure, and he did not wait for the speech; he ran. The light knows exactly who you are beneath the pretense, and it is not disappointed; it is running toward you.

You do not have to fix yourself before you are loved. The gap between your mask and your heart is exactly where the light shines brightest tonight.