Last week, I went to the nail salon. And the experience has completely stuck to me.

I can't seem to justify my need for acrylics, especially in this season of my life. I am on the brink of graduating college, working part time and saving for a wedding. "They make me feel pretty," isn't exactly a fiscally responsible reason for spending the extra $40-$50/month. But honestly, there's something about the way I feel when my nails are done. I have a hard time describing it concisely, but I know that when I walk out of that salon, I can better pretend that I have my life fully together.

And this week has called for an extra game of 'pretend.'

It helped that I had broken a nail at work the day prior. This way, I was able to justify dipping into my checking account a week before my paycheck. It needs to be fixed. I repeated this sentiment over and over while I threw on my shoes Friday morning, and drove to the closest nail salon.

I had never been to this salon before, but the location was convenient. I stepped inside to find the usual: people in chairs, employees hard at work. Before I could even process the visual, though, someone gently latched onto my forearm.

"What do you need done today?"

I was taken aback by the suddenness of the encounter. I wanted to jerk my arm back in response. I was never fond of strangers harmlessly touching me. But I didn't jerk back. I was calm.

"I need a fill, and a repair please."

She lead me to the chair where I would wait. She offered me water. I politely declined. And I was left to wait.

Minutes passed and I scrolled through my phone as I waited. Slouched over in my chair, I scrolled. And with every scroll, it felt as though I was sliding further and further into my chair. The words I read on the screen of my phone acted as weights upon my back. I was fed up, tired, and heart sick. But ultimately, I was brought back to that place of feeling as though I needed to pretend. The things I read, the world as it stands-- it doesn't bother me. Not at all.

I was jolted out of this vision with another touch on the shoulder.

It was the same employee. She stood above me and let me know that the wait was almost up. She offered me something to drink again and I declined. But then she reached down and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. And she grinned, just slightly, the way my mother does when she knows I'm feeling defeated.

I'm telling you, I just about lost it right after that. She walked away as I choked back tears. Like a freaking baby. I tried so desperately to not let anyone see. Because if someone were to ask why, I wouldn't necessarily know what to tell them. Maybe I'm just overtired.

But I wasn't.

I was sad. I was angry. I was stressed. And maybe I was a little emotionally tired. All week I had been carrying doubt and confusion without any consideration of my own need and well-being. I wasn't quite sure what I needed at all this week. I didn't even care to think about it unless it was staring me blankly in the face, like a broken acrylic that leaves your whole finger throbbing.

But it wasn't exactly the acrylics that I needed. I needed a reminder of love and humanity. I needed a sense of peace. I needed to feel a kind gesture from a stranger. I needed to feel God's presence. And that employee may never know that a single interaction did all of this and so much more.

I'm not so good at pretending.

I don't have it together. My hair isn't a mess and my nails are fixed because I have taken twice as long to ensure that these things appear to be in order. My work is complete because I consistently and repeatedly push aside anxiety and sadness to make room for clarity. I am breathing because I am reminding myself to inhale. But I'm tired. And this isn't working.

Why is it that I have to consistently remind myself that I can't do this on my own? How did I hand over the reins of my life to Christ but continually attempt to yank them back? How do I never learn that I can't do this alone?

The thing is that while the world might be fooled by my game of make-believe, God for sure isn't. And God was so willing to offer me his grace and love (yet again), especially through an emotionally trying week. God was willing to remind me of the goodness in people. God reminded me that I don't always have to pretend.

I can let my hair get messy. My nails can break. I can breathe innately. I can loosen up on the reigns because I don't have to take it all. I don't have to steer the car. Sometimes I get to be a passenger looking at the view. Sometimes that view is ugly. Sometimes the road I'm driving down is engulfed in flames. But it is the reminder of peace and the reminder of love and the reminder of God that makes the trip easier.

And with that, I can breathe a sigh of relief.