Your Pain Is Not A Verdict

The morning asks you to perform a version of yourself that feels like a lie. You rehearse gratitude for things that still feel like losses, and the gap between your words and your wound feels like shame.

But the light does not need your performance to see what is real. It sees the tear you wiped away before you left the house.

It sees the weight you carry behind the smile. There was a man born blind, and the world assumed his condition was a punishment for sin.

But the light said no — this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him. Your pain is not a verdict.

It is a canvas. The light is not asking you to pretend the loss isn't there.

It is asking you to let the truth of it be the place where something new is made. You do not have to force the gratitude.

You only have to stop hiding the grief. The mask is heavy.

You can put it down.