The Light Sees Beneath Your Mask

The morning asks for a performance you do not feel ready to give. You are rehearsing the casual greeting, the easy smile, for the moment you might run into them on the street.

You practice the tone that says you are fine, that nothing is broken, that the world has not shifted on its axis. But the light does not need your script.

It sees the gap between the mask you wear and the trembling beneath it. There was a woman who touched just the edge of a robe in a crushing crowd, hoping to go unnoticed.

She did not have a perfect speech prepared. She only had a desperate reach.

And the light stopped the entire procession to turn and call her daughter. You do not have to get the greeting right.

The light already knows the weight you are carrying behind the smile. The mask is for the world; the truth is for the One who sees you.