Isn't it funny that when we discover the mask of someone we thought was our friend, that we fail to see our own masks? Yet, we've always known they were there. Then, when your friend's mask is exposed, you begin to compare those masks. Is it searching for justification in our own mask, or are we looking for a level at which to convict our friend?
When we discover some really ugly traits hidden behind our friend's mask, it hurts. It always does, no matter what mask we put on our face. The tears still well up, because no matter what mask we wear, the eyes are always visible. The person we created in our minds doesn't exist anymore, because the truth is exposed. These are all just casualties of deception. But, what is our responsibilities... for we too wear our own masks. They're a different kind, but a mask nonetheless.
The answer is found in the truth. But, hearing the truth sometimes is hard. Telling it is even harder. For, who are we to tell someone else the truth, unless we are willing to hear it about ourselves?
Truth opens up a festered wound, to expose and excapulate the bacteria inside, in order for the wound to be able to close and heal properly. The one holding the scalpel must be very careful not to spread that bacteria to another, or cut the wrong part - which can cause more damage. Most of all - the surgeon must be able to recognize the bacteria, and discern what needs to be extrapulated and what needs to be saved.
I never wanted to be a surgeon - but it seems to be what I've been trained for. Nobody ever said it would be easy, but as long as I lean on my Father - and allow him to guide my hands - maybe we'll both come out of this better than we went in.
Till Next Time,
T.L. Gray
