wondering if you are too broken to be loved by someone

The mask is heavy this morning, isn't it? You walk into the room smiling, nodding, performing the part of the one who has it all together, while inside you are convinced that if anyone saw the cracks, they would turn away.

You wonder if you are too broken to be loved, too damaged to be held. But there is a love that does not wait for you to glue the pieces back together before it arrives.

The father saw his son while he was still a long way off—still covered in the filth of the pig pen, still rehearsing his apology, still believing he was unworthy of the name son. He did not wait for the speech.

He ran. He ran to the mess.

He ran to the brokenness. And he threw his arms around him before a single word of repair was spoken.

Your fractures are not a barrier to this love; they are the very places where the light gets in to meet you. You do not have to hide the damage to be held.

The love you are looking for is not afraid of your ruins.