Paint
Go.
We're all artists if you think about it. We all paint the picture we want others to see, whether it's family or friends or those in the community. But we do it, because sometimes we just don't want to let others in. We do it because our own reality seems too hard to let others see. We brush strokes of perfect careers, of perfect children, of perfect lives.
We went out for lunch today. I've had a bit of a rough winter, and I'm trying to be less serious, more spontaneous, trying to remember what childhood is all about. And Mr. C. had already napped in the car this morning, so I knew he wasn't going to nap again today.
So we went. And they were so good. So sweet. So well behaved. I'm sure I had some sort of smug look on my face. I was so proud. But wasn't it just a facade? Wasn't it me just hiding the fact that I haven't slept in days? Or that Miss E had a 45 minute tantrum this morning because I had asked her to go downstairs to get her shoes on (the horror), making us late to school?
And then, after we had played in the little play house, as I silently nodded to myself, you're such a good mom, someone landed on someone in the tube slide. There was crying and shrieking. Mommy saying we have to go. MIss E throwing a fit because she wants ice cream. Then really throwing a fit because I say no.
Paint splattered all over Chick-Fil-A. A mess of my emotions. Of my patience. Of my fear of judgment and loss of control. Of everything. Spilled all over the floor. And as it happened, our lives became more exposed for what they really are. Our beautiful composition revealing its true colors. A momma who is tired, just trying to get through this day, praying to our sweet Lord for more than a few hours of sleep, for the patience I don't have.
As we drive away, I'm able to take a breath. To look in the rearview mirror, tantrums subsided. The beautiful illustration of our lives, one paint stroke at a time in refreshing, vibrant new colors.
Stop.
Until next time,
Mrs. Kuda
I am visiting from FMF. Thank you for sharing this post. Honest, revealing, and one to which every momma can relate. I pray you will lean hard into the One who can make a masterpiece from our "true colors". Blessings!
ReplyDeleteThanks for stopping by, and of course your kind words, Niki!
DeleteI really like this one. The honesty of our lives is actually under the paint that we have put on ourselves. We have all been there. I must admit, I never had patience when I was young, but I do now. I think perhaps that might be what makes being a grandparent so much fun!
ReplyDeletePatricia, my mom tells me that all the time! I try to keep that in mind when I'm really losing my patience :) Thanks for reading!
DeleteI've had one of those weeks, too...it seems like the big paint splatters always happen in public, doesn't it? Thanks for your honesty and your openness in sharing with us. (Visiting you from Five-Minute Friday.)
ReplyDeleteI so love your honesty, you beautiful, tired Momma. It's true, those moments come and lay wide open our attempts to create these beautiful compositions. And we forget - at least I do - that the beauty is in the mess, not the perfection (that doesn't exist). Because our Creator, isn't he the grand, redemptive Artist of the messy, the broken, the worn down, the desperate, the 'ugly,' the unwanted...? Without this, I would have no hope.
ReplyDeleteAmber, your words are so encouraging. The beauty is absolutely in mess. I love how our God is so good to point that out, even when we're at our lowest. Thanks for stopping by!
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