It's a great day for a mask, right?

Driving down Main St. this evening, Bowling Green was packed with monsters, witches, bees, Spidermans, walking pumpkins, Lady Gaga's, and far too many Snookies.  (No offense to those who thought dressing up as Snookie was brilliant -- her "Bump-It" is STILL brilliant, no matter how many times I see it).  Not only were the streets filled with innocent little kiddos and young-at-heart college students, but also with creepy fog and crazy colored lights -- thanks to my dear friends' neighbors' Halloween brilliance.

And let's put this out there -- Trick-or-Treating...it's one of the best ideas ever thought of.  What little boy doesn't love the idea of strapping on his cape and getting free candy?  What little girl doesn't love the idea of strapping on her princess crown and getting free candy?  It's absolutely genius.  

As I got to thinking about dressing up, gearing ourselves up in our costumes, and shoving our faces with candy corn (and those even more delicious little candy pumpkins), I started thinking about how I, in essence, seem to play Halloween everyday.

Everyday, it seems, I roll out of bed, hop in the shower, and think through my own mask that I will wear for that day.  I wonder "will it be the mask of, 'I'm confident,' or 'I'm funny,' or 'I'm tired,' or 'I've got it all together today,' or 'I don't want to be approached today,' or 'I've got the answers, why don't you ask me?'"  I've got options of the masks I tend to wear...and honestly, throughout the day, they frequently change.

I don't want to wear a mask.  It's entirely too exhausting.  It's entirely too much work.

I am fighting like hell to live life unveiled.  Fighting like hell to take on the world without a mask.  To allow the world to see the blemishes, the flaws, the imperfections, the mess.  And there's a lot.  I am so far from perfect.  I am choosing to let the world see the junk.  And I'm simply asking my creator to speak words of beauty and of life into this unresolved mess.