You Can Take The Mask Off Now

The mask is heavy this morning. You put it on before your feet hit the floor so no one sees how tightly you are gripping the good things you have.

You smile at the coffee machine, at the commute, at the first email, but inside you are bracing for the loss. You are sure that whatever light you hold will be snatched away the moment you relax your hand.

But the light does not work like that. It is not a possession you can drop or a prize someone can steal.

There is a love that reached for you long before you had anything to lose — a love that chose you, not the other way around. And that love has made a home inside you that no outside force can touch.

You can take the mask off now, even just for a moment. The good things in your life are not yours to guard; they are yours to receive, again and again, from a source that cannot run dry.