Steady God,
We are shape-shifters, drifting in and out of our counterfeit selves depending on whom we are in proximity to. There are days when who we are feels so imprecise, so transient, that we wonder if anything of us is real at all. Turn us toward the parts of us that are true and reveal the parts that are more mask than flesh. Keep us from demonizing our false selves, but let us turn to them in curiosity and compassion; knowing every mask is born of a wound. Travel with us into memories of all that has formed us, those secret places in ourselves where we have hesitated to go. And on the journey, may we listen for the sound of our name. May we speak it with the conviction of one who knows it by heart. Amen.