The Mask Can Come Down Now

The mask is heavy this morning. You put it on before your feet even hit the floor, convinced that if anyone saw the real you, they would walk away.

You perform okayness so well that you almost believe it yourself. But the light does not need your performance.

It sees the exhaustion behind the smile and loves what it finds there. There was a woman who came to a dinner party carrying the weight of her entire reputation, expecting to be shamed.

Instead, the host defended her dignity in front of everyone who judged her. He did not ask her to fix herself first.

He simply saw her. You are not loved because you are perfect.

You are loved because you are seen. The mask can come down now.