The Light Sees You in the Dark

The lock clicks. It is the only sound in a house that expects you to be fine.

You sit on the cold tile, crying into your hands so no one hears the break. The world outside that door wants a performance, but the light sees what happens in the secret place.

It does not demand you wash your face first. It does not ask you to fix the mask before you come out.

In the quiet, where your Father who sees what is done in secret will reward you, there is no audience to impress. The tears are not a failure of your faith; they are the honest language of a heart that has carried too much for too long.

You do not have to explain the weight to the One who already knows it.