Did I Miss My Ride?
For our anniversary, my husband and I decided to travel outside Canada. We spent months getting our passports in order and making sure we had all the right documentation. My husband, Lyle, is Canadian, but I am a U.S. citizen with landed immigrant status, which allows me to live, work (and pay taxes) in Canada.
When my new American passport arrived with a picture reminiscent of Phyllis Diller, Lyle drove me to the Canadian consulate to have it stamped.
“I’ll pick you up in forty-five minutes,” he said, as he dropped me off across the street from the consulate, “I’ll drive by, and you can jump in.”
Finding the right department at the embassy and getting my passport stamped took most of my forty-five minutes.
I rushed outside, crossed the street, and spotted our gold Lincoln coming my way. I began waving frantically, but he just passed by. Fortunately, as he neared the light, it turned red.
Sprinting across the four-lane street in my three-inch heels, I prayed the light would not change as I made the final charge. I jerked open the car door and breathlessly jumped in. Fumbling for my seat belt, I looked up into the horrified face of the driver who was not my husband. By now, the light had changed to green, and we just sat there. “Am I being carjacked?” He asked.
I let go of my seat belt, said my apologies, and assured him it was a mistake. I was not a carjacker! I jumped out just in time to see my husband drive up. He had seen the whole escapade and was driving like a wild man in case he had to rescue me.
“What on earth are you doing? Don’t you know what our car looks like?” He said. All I could do was laugh. My knight in shining armor came rushing in to save me, and the poor man in the other car will most likely never drive his car again without having the doors locked. ©
Isn’t it funny how we can get the wrong impressions about people or circumstances and assume we know all the facts? And harsh conditions and crises events are not usually what we would share on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest or Instagram. I confess I have been guilty of making assumptions myself and embarrassed to find out how wrong I have been.
How many times have I put on a mask hiding from others what is happening in my life? You know that little survival kit, full of special occasion masks we use to get us through the hard stuff.
When I walk out of the house, hear the screen door slam behind me, I can often pretend to be someone else for a time. Trying to become whatever other people wanted me to be. And never allowing others to see my own fear and insecurity.
I placed all my emphasis on outward appearance, material wealth and personal importance. I had a perfect mask and wanted people to think I had a perfect life too. I would just wear a smile!
I was afraid if they saw the real me, they wouldn’t accept me. I am so thankful there is a God who Loves me and likes me just the way he made me. He sees “The good the bad and the ugly” and loves me anyway. Thank goodness.
What a precious and wonderful gift that He has given me. The gift of grace. I don’t have to pretend that life is perfect, and afraid of what others think of me, I am free to be Me! ©
Do you feel like hiding behind masks too? Why do we feel we need to smile when life is tough?
I would love to hear your thoughts.
Hugs to each of you.