The Light Shines Through The Mask

The mask is heavy this morning, especially when you are carrying a silence that used to hold a voice. You walk through the day smiling at the right moments, performing the role of someone who is okay, while inside you are navigating a world where that person is no longer present.

It is exhausting to pretend the sun feels warm when your winter has not ended. But listen — the light does not require your performance to see you.

It sees right through the smile you are wearing and loves the grief underneath just as much as the joy. You do not have to take the mask off to be held.

The Father's light is already inside you, shining in the very place where the loss feels deepest. It was there before the goodbye, and it remains there now, untouched by the absence.

You are not defined by the emptiness, but by the light that fills it. The mask is for the world; the light is for you.