The mirrors you need aren't the kind you hang on walls—they're the kind that show you your heart, not your hair. It’s funny, in a not-so-funny way, how quick people are to point out the smudge on someone else's life when their own windows haven’t been cleaned in years. They’ll whisper about her parenting, his choices, their marriage—like life’s one big tea party and the teapot never spills on them. But oh, if only they had mirrors, they'd see that everyone is carrying something: a secret scar, a lesson learned too late, a regret that still aches quietly.
The mirrors you need would gently remind you that the girl you just called “too much” is barely holding herself together. That the man you mocked for being “soft” might be the strongest person you know, because he still chooses kindness. It’s wild how some people treat gossip like it’s sport—spinning stories at dinner tables, in church foyers, in groups titled "prayer requests" (but we all know what’s really going on there). Meanwhile, the faults in their own lives sit untouched, like unread books collecting dust on shelves of denial.
The mirrors you need would crack just a little every time you chose cruelty over compassion. They’d reflect the face of the person you mocked, the tear they didn’t let fall until they got home, the silence that followed your careless comment. People forget that words linger. They plant seeds in hearts—some bloom into strength, but others grow into thorns. And still, the same people who slice others with their tongue cry out when someone does the same to them, as if they’ve never sharpened a blade.
The mirrors you need don’t judge, but they do remember. They remember every time you said, “I’d never do that,” and then did it. Every time you rolled your eyes at someone’s failure, only to trip over your own. Life has this poetic way of humbling us—yet some still walk around like they’ve mastered it, ignoring their own cracks while pointing out others’. But darling, no one gets through this life clean. We're all a little messy, a little broken, a little late to our own healing.
The mirrors you need would reflect grace. The kind that says, I’ve made mistakes too. I don’t know their whole story. I’ll choose kindness instead. Because what this world needs isn’t more criticism disguised as “concern”—it needs compassion wrapped in humility. It needs people who can look at themselves, honestly, and say, I’ve been there too. That’s where the healing begins. That’s where we learn to speak less with judgement and more with love.
The Mirrors You Need. So, before you speak about someone else, hold up a mirror. Ask yourself if you’d want the same things said about you. Ask yourself if you’re offering healing or harm. Because the truth is, the mirrors you need aren’t there to shame you—they're there to soften you. To remind you that you're human, just like them. And maybe, just maybe, if we all spent a little more time looking into those mirrors, we’d finally learn to see each other a little more clearly—and love each other a whole lot more deeply.
