Un(Facebook)worthy

A couple of weeks ago, I was trying to bring some lunch to a friend who was having a rough day.  I had the best of intentions.  However, in my zeal to do something nice, I failed to realize that:

A.) It was lunch-time, and my kids hadn't eaten.
B.) My gas-tank was empty.  Not almost on the "E" empty, but right smack on the "E" empty.
C.) I had never been to this friend's house, and the main road to get there was under construction.

Consequently, this fun little trip with the kids turned into a fun little trip to hell.  What should have been a ten minute drive turned into a forty minute drive, with me periodically stopping the car (making sure to turn the car entirely off so as not to waste the gas fumes I was driving on) to check Google Maps, which is useless to me, because on my best days, reading maps is like reading Portuguese to me, and on my worst days, Google Maps Navigation persistently leads me back to construction sites over and over and over again. My kids were hungry, which means they began screaming at the top of their lungs about five minutes into the drive, causing me to be unable to think or hear the Google Maps Navigation girl giving me the wrong directions.  So, I did what I always do when I am overwhelmed or lost or annoyed at the kids: I called my husband.  I put him on speaker phone, because my awesome phone is from 1984 (aka 2012) and the sound periodically goes out unless I put my calls on speaker phone. Well, there were three kids screaming in the car, a frantic wife sputtering about how she's about to run out of gas and is completely lost and she CAN'T DO THIS anymore, and the faint murmurings of a polite but misinformed Google Maps girl, insisting that I really should turn right and plow right through that construction site.  Jordan, of course, heard all of this since it was on speaker phone, but I didn't care.  Honestly, this is just a slice of normal life for us.  He did sound a bit preoccupied, but I had no time to take that into consideration at that particular moment of insanity.  He managed to look up Google Maps on his phone, actually read the Portuguese map, and give me a detour that got me to my friend's house in relatively one piece.  Thank you, saint and hero of a husband. 

It wasn't until he got home later that he casually mentioned that he'd had a client in the car when I'd called.  A young man from Sri Lanka, a refugee who only recently entered the country.  He'd been driving the young man to a medical appointment, and since he was driving, he'd had to put me on speaker phone, as well.  My mind spun back to the ugliest moment in the car, when the kids had been screaming so loud I couldn't hear anything Jordan was saying, and I had yelled "SHUT UP!" which always works to quiet your kids when they are already upset and hungry.  Not.

I was so embarrassed that my private, ugly moment hadn't been private at all, and Jordan's unconcerned assurance of "It's fine, he hardly understands English," did nothing to comfort me.  You didn't need to speak English to hear the chaos and poor parenting that was occurring in that moment.  Welcome to America, sir.  Land of the free and the crazy.

Needless to say, that moment did not make it onto my Facebook status that night.  Nor do I post countless other ugly but real-life moments that occur on a daily basis.  Most of us, I think, tend to post a best-scenario version of ourselves online.  Here is a sample of the type of photo I post of my daughter Nora:

So cute, right?  I just want to eat her up like the ice cream cone that's on her shirt.

Here is a sample of Nora in real life, 95% of the time:

This is Nora at her happiest: Shirtless and eating dirt and other unspeakable things straight off the ground.

If you are like me, you deem certain moments and certain photos "Facebook Worthy" and certain moments and photos Un-Facebook-Worthy.  Consequently, the Facebook persona, or the public persona we present to the world is not always the fullest, truest form of who we are (insert shock and awe). What we show the world isn't necessarily a lie - it's just not the whole story. 

And let me just say, sometimes this "filter" is good.  We probably all know a few people who could use a stronger filter on their Facebook posts.  The public doesn't need to know everything that happens in your life (It is taking every ounce of self-control I have right now not to give hilarious examples of Facebook posts on my newsfeed that have no filter. GAH.) While I appreciate authenticity (and I really appreciate authenticity), I also appreciate a healthy measure of privacy.  Certain things are sacred to your home (and to mine) and certain things are not appropriate to share.  We all have things that we would prefer to keep between ourselves and those closest to us, and I think that is healthy and good.  But, I think it's important that when we deem a moment "Un-Facebook-Worthy," that we don't associate that moment or that photo with shame. 

Take my parental failure the other day in the car with the kids.  It wasn't my best moment.  I felt awful that I'd yelled something unkind to my kids, and that I'd let a stressful moment turn me into someone that I don't want to be.  On top of that, I felt ashamed that I'd been heard by a stranger in that moment.  It would have been easy to get stuck there, in that sense of shame and guilt, believing that I'm a terrible parent.  Instead, I let the feelings of shame and guilt push me toward repentance.  I apologized to Jordan, for being a crazy wife and for being unconcerned for his needs at that time, I apologized to my kids, for speaking (yelling) unkindly to them, and most importantly, I apologized to God, and asked for His help to be the mom I was created to be.  Because that mom in the car, that wasn't me.  That wasn't the fullest, truest form of who I am any more than the Facebook version of me is.  It was just a moment, a snapshot, an unflattering selfie that will never make it onto the internet (until now).

We all have those snapshots of ourselves that we don't want anyone to see.  As spouses, as siblings and sons and daughters and especially as parents: not every moment is pretty.  Not every moment is sunshine and flowers and blowing bubbles and baking cookies for your kids who are currently holding hands, singing sweet little songs and playing quietly together outside like little cherubs.  Some moments may be like that (okay, really, if you have moments like that, I'm moving into your house and forcing you to mentor me) but not all of them.  And in the ugliest, most private moments that you don't want anyone to see: give yourself grace.  Apologize to those you hurt, dive deeper into the love of God, and trust His promise that He's not done with you yet.  He's in the process of refining that ugly selfie and turning it into a masterpiece.  You won't even recognize yourself when you see the finished product. 

Just because a moment in your life is Un-Facebook-Worthy, doesn't mean you are unworthy.