Scrolling through what seems like millions of pictures of gorgeous locks, I start to lament mine but then I think I can copy. So I settle on about 6 that could suit me and send my hairdresser the pictures.
We do the new hair thing the next day, her going off Pinterest pictures, me being hopeful. 2 hours later I slip back into my car with a follicle make-over, but very much still me. I’ve been freshened, but I still have bills. My split ends are trimmed, but my friend with a broken marriage still needs prayer. If only new hair had the power to transform life’s hard things. Too bad it’s just new hair, awesome as new hair may be.
And as I look in the rearview mirror adjusted down to my face, I think to myself, This doesn’t look like the model on Pinterest and it dawns on me, I don’t look like the model on Pinterest and despite enjoying a fresh cut (because duh, it’s the best), add that to my list of daily woes.
It’s interesting, Pinterest. How only the best makes the cut. Spilled drinks and bedhead and dirty baby fingernails and burnt dinners don’t typically make for good pins. But those things are real and what most of our lives look like.
So here we are, 2 days before Mother’s Day, and I have friends who can’t post a picture of their baby drooling, holding a fistful of mommy’s hair because they lost her last year. And I think to myself, Where’s the Pinterest picture of that? The one where every Mother’s Day isn’t perfect for everyone out there? Because c’mon, I know. Suddenly, Pinterest feels ingenuine.
Listen. I’m a mom and mine is still living and I celebrate the mess out of the fact that I have managed to rise to the maturity level to raise little ones into big kids and even have kids, at all. And I celebrate that my mom is still with me and is wonderful. Mother’s Day is beautiful, and I soak it in. But it’s not equally beautiful for everyone because sometimes, it’s beautiful despite ugly, which is a different kind of thing some of us don’t know as much about.
It’s not always all cards and roses. Sometimes it’s a reminder you don’t feel like a very good mother or always wanted to be one but haven’t gotten to be or never met the one who gave birth to you or the one that did abused you and it left a heart hole. Sometimes it’s a single mom whose plans didn’t include doing this alone. Sometimes it’s prayers for your kids who don’t love God. And empty nurseries. And having to put flowers on your child’s grave. Sometimes those are Mother’s Day things, too.
And by the way, marriage is another thing that can be awesome. But not every marriage is solved in a Pinterest quote.
And not every recipe tastes like the Pinterest picture looks. (Hello? Just ask my family.)
Not every vacation looks like Santorini, Greece, and not every girl smiling in a sparkly prom dress is really happy and what about the single girls who really want to find a life partner but instead are reminded by all the family pins they live alone?
It’s not that Pinterest is to blame. It’s that our life probably doesn’t show up in it’s pictures and sometimes this is hard for us.
But it’s ok.
Because maybe our kitchen is outdated and we don’t have those amazing shoes and our hair will never look like the models on Pinterest, never ever.
And maybe Mother’s Day isn’t flowers and cards but it’s tears and hugs and hopes and wishes and disappointment, too.
But it’s life. And it’s ours. And we are doing it the best we know how.
And God, thank God, who doesn’t live in Pinterest pictures, anyway, but in hearts whether happy or very sad and loves tightly regardless of how we celebrate right now or can’t bring ourselves to.
Our reality may not be Pinterest worthy but it is still worthy.
And that’s still good.
(p.s. Happy Mother’s Day, moms out there. I love you.)