You Are Being Carried By Light

The room is loud with other people's joy, and you are holding a smile that feels like it might crack your face. You laughed when they opened the gifts.

You clapped when the games ended. But inside, you are falling apart, carrying a grief that has no place in a room decorated for new life.

The light sees the effort it takes to stay standing. It sees the way you are swallowing your own tears so they do not spoil the celebration.

There was a moment, long ago, when a paralyzed man was lowered through a roof because the crowd was too thick to let him in. Jesus saw the faith of the friends who carried him, and he said to the broken man: 'Son, your sins are forgiven.' He saw the ones who carried the weight when the man could not carry himself.

Tonight, you are the one being carried. You do not have to hold it together for the light to love you.

The mask can come down. The exhale is allowed.

You are not failing at joy because you are hurting. You are simply human, and the light is holding you up while your knees shake.

The party will end. The silence will come.

And you will still be held.