I wrote this today with so many people on my mind, including family members, struggling with depression, trying to just put one foot in front of the other while many of us don’t even see it. I used to have a drawer full of masks, they were covered in smiles and “I’m okay” expressions, and were soaked with tears on the side no one ever saw. The masks just make it easier, easier than answering questions, easier than explaining something we don’t understand ourselves at times, easier than fighting the battle. I get it. Occasionally, I go to reach for one today, but thankfully… I don’t have as many. Thank you God. He can do that for you too but I know the journey is hard. I pray for you in this moment. If you’re reading this, I hope you’ll pray for someone too…. even if you can’t see them behind the mask. Someone reading this needs your prayers. Maybe you do.

She picked it up again today,
that mask she carries ‘round.
Someone said words that hurt 
but she didn’t make a sound. 

She put it on and looked at them,
and behind the smile that shows,
are tears so gently flowing,
something no one ever knows.  

She wears the smiling mask,
although its edges worn,
it has become so heavy,
and like her spirit, torn.

And in the night at last,
she lays it to the side,
her heart so tired of hiding,
and in her sleep she cries.

And then one morning when she woke,
as she’d done a million times before,
she reached for the smiling mask,
and it was there no more.  

And in its place a letter
was folded neatly by her bed,
and tears they flowed once again
as she held it and she read.

Good morning Child,

I love you, so I took your mask with me.
Behind it was your pain and sorrow,
but neither you hid from me.  

Take my hand today and trust me,
and when you hurt, I’ll carry you,
and together, we’ll find your smile again,
the real one I created for you.

I don’t want you hiding anymore,
your feelings or that beautiful face,
because all of me loves all of you,
and no mask can hide my grace.

Love,
God