You Are Already Light Even As Dust

The smile you put on this morning is heavy. You perform gratitude so no one sees the crack beneath it, terrified that your true weight will make you a burden.

But the light does not need your performance to stay close. It sees the mask, and it sees the exhaustion behind it, and it loves what is hidden there.

There is a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off — he did not wait for the speech, the apology, the cleaned-up version. He ran.

Before the words, before the fix — he ran. You do not have to earn your place at the table by pretending to be light.

You are already light, even when you feel like dust. The mask is for the world; the face underneath is for God.

And God is not burdened by your grief; God is the place where you can finally put it down.