The Real Deal: Being Authentic in an Inauthentic World

I was in graduate school and slightly in love. Well, maybe a lot in love. But I kept to the high school maxim: "Never let him see you in curlers with no makeup." Supposedly, if you revealed your true self (or face), your true love would high-tail it to the woods and never be seen again.

So with hair perfectly coiffed and a carefully chosen outfit, I met my date in the front lobby of the dorm (yes, a dorm), and we headed out to his church van full of teenagers from his part-time pastorate. The plan was to take them to eat at a fast-food place and then head downtown to a statewide youth evangelist event.

At the burger place, I bit down on something hot, followed by a cold drink from my soda. The combination was unfortunate for the crown on one of my front teeth. It cracked along the back side and was hanging by a thread.

How do you bring up the fact that you have two capped teeth to someone you are dating? "Oh, by the way, do you see these two fake teeth? Ha, ha." I didn't know how to handle my embarrassment, much less in front of the teenagers (who are as a sub-set of the population notoriously cruel).

So, I did the only thing I knew to do. I rushed toward the van and told him to take me back to the dorm--no explanation, no details. Just take me back. He left the kids to finish their meal, and when we got back to the dorm, I fled up the steps without so much as a goodbye kiss. I called my dentist, who agreed to meet me the next day at his office.

I didn't have to worry about never seeing my date again. We had already made plans to go to his parents' house for the weekend for my very first visit! Now his mother would see my temporary cap and my other front tooth and ask her son, "What were you thinking?"

I worried about "my first impression" (no pun intended) all weekend. No one asked about my smile. I left the house feeling relieved that I hadn't left one or the other tooth in a piece of steak. Nobody seemed the wiser.

Shortly thereafter my true love and I announced our engagement, and the "tooth fairy" shined down on us until years later when I broke another crown!

Why couldn't I have just made a joke of my situation on that awful night at the fast food restaurant? Why was I afraid I'd be judged by my appearance, or lose my boyfriend over a slight imperfection? More importantly, why do I still hide out when it comes to letting my imperfections be known?

I even play that game with God. Somehow the Creator of the Universe isn't going to figure out I'm faking it in worship, or acting more pious than I am, or being nice to someone I really can't stand. Somehow the Almighty will be impressed with my "Sunday self." Oh, God, help me be real, especially with You."

Precious Moments

The document verifies the date: 42 years. How could Sim and I have been married that long? Why, it seems like only yesterday we were battling over important life issues such as "When is bedtime?" and "How much stuff is one allowed to stack in one's closet?" In fact, it was yesterday. And the year before that and the year before that—well, you get the picture.

"They say" opposites attract, and I suppose we prove the adage. I'm structured; he's spontaneous. I like neat; he likes everything out where it can be seen. I'm an introvert; he never met a stranger. I am by nature contemplative; Sim thinks on his feet.

We always said, mostly in jest, that we stayed together because of the kids—whoever left had to take them with him or her! So, on our anniversary night, it seemed appropriate to invite our youngest, Mark, to join us for the festivities. He brought us a card that reminded, "A life together is made up of loving, silly, important moments, but mostly, moments with each other."

Three friends have recently lost their mates. Today, Sim and I have precious moments together. I hope we don't waste any of them.