The Light Sees Your Love

The mask is heavy this morning, isn't it? You walk through the day wearing a face that says you have it together, while inside you are terrified that the broken pieces of your own soul have already glued themselves to your child.

You look at them and see the flaws you cannot fix in yourself, and the fear whispers that you are passing down a curse instead of a life. But the light sees what the mask hides.

It knows the depth of your love is greater than the depth of your damage. There is a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off.

He ran. Before the apology, before the speech — he ran.

That same love is running toward your child right now, not because you are perfect, but because they are held. You do not have to be the fix.

You just have to be the parent who stays. The light that lives in you is already healing what you cannot reach.