“Turn the music down!” My 3-year-old demanded from the back seat.
“What is it Ayken?” I replied.
“My want to know my Halloween costume.”
“Oh, I haven’t even thought about it, buddy.”
“Well, we need to find my costume.”
And that was that. He was out of the car, walking hand in hand with big brother into school. It got me thinking though. Most kids start planning early about the PERFECT Halloween costume. A superhero. A princess. A character from a movie. A creature that probably doesn’t exist. And for one night, they will happily become someone else. But somewhere along the way, I think adults become pretty good at costumes too.
The thing is, I am not talking about the masks we put on to appease our children, or to pass out candy to the neighborhood kids. I am talking about the masks we put on as mothers, educators, guardians. The ones that say “I am fine” but we are anything but. Or what about the mask that says, “I’ve got this” when we are wondering how we are going to make it through the week. The mask that smiles at car rider drop off, answers the texts, packs the bags, gives baths, lays out clothes and somehow keeps going, even when the person underneath is exhausted.
Maybe motherhood has a way of teaching us how to become very convincing actors. We learn to smile, and say “It’s OK.” We hide the mess, and put on a face. What if we get so used to putting on the mask and playing the part, we forget when we have it on and when we don’t?
But what happens if we intentionally choose to take off the mask? At first, it will feel uncomfortable. Underneath the mask and costume may be the very parts of ourselves we have always worked so hard to keep hidden. The drowning mom. The exhausted dad. The less than perfect friend. The struggling wife. The overwhelmed teacher. The overworked professional. The tired coach. The mom who loses her patience one minute, and the next is in the bathroom weeping. The person who doesn’t have all the answers, maybe not any. The heart that is hurting. The life that is less than cookie cutter. The shaken faith. The need to look perfect, to live perfectly, to parent perfectly supersedes our need to be seen. So we hide it all, put on our best face, and tackle our days, weeks, months…
But what if…
What if taking off the mask we wear, opens up the door for an opportunity of grace. God doesn’t need our best. He needs our truth. We don’t have to come to him polished, dressed to impress, or smudge free. He sees the dirty house, the less than behaved children and He doesn’t turn away. Maybe choosing to take off our “costume” is one of the most freeing things we can give ourselves. No more need to walk around in hiding, but a freedom in truth. Maybe, we can admit that we are human, just like everyone else.
“I’m tired, Lord.”
“I need help, God.”
“I thought I would be better at this by now.”
That is where grace meets us.
Having a clean house won’t get us there. Perfect kids won’t. Being a perfect spouse, teacher, friend, parent… None of those will get us there.
Maybe that is what I need to focus on as a parent. Maybe that’s what I want my children to learn from me more than anything else. Not that Mommy always has it all together, but that Mommy knows where to go when she doesn’t. Who to go to. Because we can’t wear a mask forever. Makeup washes away. The costumes eventually have to come off. Then, we are left with just ourselves.
What an opportunity to walk into November – the month of gratitude – mask free. We can focus on the dirty house if we want. Or focus on the healthy kids playing between the walls. We can focus on the pile of laundry. Or focus on the finances the Lord has provided for us. When we take off our masks, and learn to be thankful in the “hard times” we can start to see those seasons that stretched us, pushed us, stressed us, humbled us, as nothing more than reminders of grace.
This fall I am simply showing up. Messy hair. Messy house. Tired heart. Imperfect parenting. And in need of ALL the grace. Because when everything comes off, underneath the mask, the costume, and the makeup, behind the chaos… There will always be grace.