Behind the smile

‎She always smiled.
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‎At work, in church, at family gatherings  the smile was always there, perfectly worn like her favorite scarf. It was warm, inviting, and constant. You wouldn’t know she hadn’t slept well the night before. Or that she cried in the car before entering the building. You wouldn’t know she’d battled anxiety in silence or begged God for answers in the stillness of midnight. She made it look easy, like peace came naturally to her.
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‎But behind the smile, there was a story.
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‎A silent story filled with prayers she was tired of praying. The kind that begins with, “Lord, are You still there?” Not because she didn’t believe, but because waiting for answers felt like walking through fog unclear, unpredictable, and exhausting.
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‎Some days, she felt strong. Other days, she felt like she was barely holding it together. But either way, she smiled.
‎Because strength — real strength isn’t always loud. Sometimes it looks like waking up and showing up, even when your heart feels heavy. Sometimes it looks like doing the dishes, replying to a message, sitting in church, or leading a meeting all while carrying an invisible weight.
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‎She smiled not because life was easy, but because she didn’t want to explain what she couldn’t articulate. Because even if her world felt messy, the smile was something she could control. And somehow, smiling made her feel a little stronger… even if only for a moment.
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‎But heaven saw.
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‎She was the one everyone leaned on the one who checked on others, who sent random messages to cheer people up, who remembered birthdays and anniversaries. The kind of woman who knew how to speak life, even when her own was feeling drained.
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‎People called her “light.” They admired her joy. They drew from her energy.
‎But when the phone went silent…
‎When no one asked how she was…
‎When her “I’m fine” was accepted without question…
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‎She began to feel invisible. Not to people, really but to God.
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‎She never wanted attention, but she craved assurance. She never needed applause, but she longed for presence.
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‎ “If I disappear for a while, will anyone notice?”
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‎She never said it out loud, but the thought lingered. Not in a bitter way, but in a weary one. Like a breath that stayed stuck in her chest. She still believed. She still prayed. But she also wondered If God is near the brokenhearted, like Psalm 34:18 says… why did He feel so far?
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‎She went through the motions singing the songs, quoting the scriptures, giving the advice. But when she lay in bed at night, the ache remained. It wasn’t always loud. Sometimes it was just numb.
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‎But here’s the thing about God:
‎He doesn’t just see our smiles but sees the sorrow behind them. He sees the part of you that no one claps for, the part that keeps going anyway.
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‎He knows what you hide in your journals, hears the prayers that start as sighs, notices the silence between your words and He stays.
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‎Even when you don’t feel Him — He stays.
‎Even when your faith feels small — He stays.
‎Even when the smile fades — He stays.
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‎One evening, after a long day of being “okay,” she stood in front of the mirror and didn’t force the smile. She looked herself in the eye and whispered, “I’m not fine.” Her voice cracked. Her hands trembled. But for the first time in a long time, she didn’t pretend.
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‎And that was when she felt it.
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‎Not a loud miracle or a dramatic answer  but a quiet knowing. A peace that didn’t explain itself, gentle assurance that God was still there. That honesty is holy. That she didn’t have to perform to be held.
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‎She didn’t suddenly have all the answers. The circumstances didn’t shift immediately but something inside her did. She realized that she wasn’t failing for feeling weak she was just human and grace had already made room for that.
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‎—
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‎If you’ve ever smiled to keep from crying…
‎If you’ve ever been the strong one who’s secretly tired…
‎If you’ve ever felt unseen in the middle of a crowd…
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‎This is for you.
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‎You’re not weak and faithless. You’re human and deeply loved by a God who sees everything behind the smile.
‎You are seen, held, loved fully, gently, and endlessly. You don’t have to pretend anymore and hold everything together alone.
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‎So here’s your gentle reminder:
‎Even when no one else notices, God does.
‎Even when you’re smiling just to survive you’re still being held.

Thank you for taking the time to read “Behind the smile.” It was written from a place of both reflection and renewal. If this post blessed you in any way, feel free to share it, comment below, or reach out. Your journey matters  and you’re not walking it alone