My friend Brooke recently published a book and I had the
chance to review it for her. I’ll admit
that I’m not usually a fan of fiction but I actually enjoyed it. The book is called the Wizard of god and it
follows a girl named Grace on a journey through a spiritual landscape that is both
fantastical and eerily familiar. Like
the classic story, our heroine amasses a band of misfits and heads for a far
off place to find a person with all the answers. Along the journey that encounter stereotypes
of the church as it exists today, with all extremes being represented.
As someone who has been wounded by churches and Christians
in the past, there were several chapters that really resonated with me but
there is one particular scene that I’ve thought about several times over the
past several days. When Grace finally reaches her destination, she and her
companions are given plastic training smiles which they instructed to wear until
their facial muscles adjust to smiling all the time. The group finds themselves through this
giant, fancy compound filled with beautiful people and their fake smiles with
all of their pain hidden behind masks.
I thought about that scene as I walked into the elementary
school for Muffins with Moms last week with a plastic smile on my face and a
bitemark from one of my children on my hand.
I greeted other parents in the hallway like I hadn’t spent the last hour
trying stop a meltdown. I sat at that
cafeteria table and tried to overcome the horrible morning to connect with my
kids before they ran off to class and thought about how exhausting it was but I
kept my smile on anyway.
I continued to think about that scene off and on throughout
the week because we’ve had some really hard days at our house lately. It is always complicated for my kids when
they see their biological family but we thought they could handle an extended
visit with one of their siblings because of some extenuating circumstances. Instead we spent about two weeks in absolute
crisis mode as attachment issues reared their ugly heads. I kept my smile on though, at least in public.
I thought about that scene after church last Sunday too. The
girl child screamed for most of the morning and the entire drive to
church. My nerves were frayed and I was
tired. When I walked the boys to class,
another mama asked me a question about an issue that we have faced with one of
our kids. Her child is working to
overcome similar challenges and she wanted advice. I took a deep breath and considered putting
my smile back on to tell her how it’s done but I left chose to leave it in my
pocket instead. I told her I was empty
and that as much as I wanted to help her, we would have to talk strategies
another day. To my surprise, instead of
a glaring, judgmental sanctimommy, I found another mother who struggles some
days too.
I realized in that moment that the best thing about taking
off your mask is that others lay theirs down too. I have to tell you that felt amazing. I needed that moment in the church hallway
of connecting with another mother who can see me struggle without thinking I’m
Medusa.
In light of my newest revelations, I thought about that
scene and some of the moments when I took the smile off to let my face and soul
relax. I started a new job that I am
really excited about. The night before,
I sent my person a message that basically said “this might be imposter syndrome
but I’m pretty sure I’m going to be completely incompetent and fall on my face tomorrow.”
Since she’s an amazing human, my friend encouraged me and I felt empowered when
I arrived at the office the next morning. Taking my mask off that night allowed me to connect
with someone so I didn’t need to fake it; I could smile for real.
I don’t think it’s realistic to pretend like I could go
through life and never fake another smile.
There are situations where we simply have to grin and bear it. I see benefits to laying our masks down
whenever it is safe to though. I think
when we take our fake smiles off, it lets our real ones come out. They may not be as flashy and gaudy. They may even be weak but they are
authentic. They may coexist with tears
but they exist in the flesh instead of plastic when we are allowed to share our
truth with the people around us.
