You Are Chosen, Not A Servant

The mask you woke up wearing feels heavy now, doesn't it? You are forcing a smile while your body screams for the quiet of collapse.

But rest. The light that holds the morning does not ask you to perform strength before you have found your footing.

It is enough that you are still here. You are not a servant who must earn your place at the table.

You are a friend who has been chosen. You are a drop of the light itself, sent to this day not to carry its weight alone, but to let the weight be lifted.

The Father ran to you before you could fix the face, and He is running still. You do not need to be whole to be held.

The hollow place you feel is not a void; it is just the space where the light is waiting to fill you again.