The Light Loves the Face Behind the Mask

The smile feels heavy this morning, like a mask you are afraid to take off. You worry that if you stop performing happiness, the people around you will see the emptiness underneath and walk away.

But the light does not love the performance. It loves the face behind the mask.

There was a woman who had been bleeding for twelve years, untouchable and unseen, who reached out just to touch the edge of a cloak. She did not have to be whole to be healed.

She did not have to pretend. The light stopped in the middle of a rushing crowd and turned to her, calling her 'Daughter.' It saw her trembling honesty and called it faith.

You do not have to earn your place at the table by being okay. The light already knows what is under the mask, and it is not running away.

It is leaning in closer. The terror says they will leave if you stop acting.

The truth says they will finally meet you if you start breathing.