The Unbrushed Hair Confession: Choosing Presence Over Perfection

The house is quiet this morning. It’s a different kind of quiet now that the kids are grown and building lives of their own. It’s a quiet that invites reflection, usually over a warm cup of coffee as the November sun tries its best to break through the clouds. This morning, I’m thinking about an invitation, and the very real temptation I felt to say no.

It was just last week. A casual pre-Thanksgiving dinner at my sister’s house. Nothing fancy, just a chance to gather before the beautiful chaos of the actual holiday. I’d promised to bring my green bean casserole. But the day, as days often do, had other plans. A deadline at work popped up, my husband called with a car issue, and before I knew it, it was an hour past when I was supposed to be there. The casserole was still just a pile of ingredients on my counter. My hair was in a messy bun from the morning, and I was still in my comfy work-from-home sweater.

The thought of just sending a text was so strong. “So sorry, something came up! I can’t make it.” It would have been so easy. No one would have blamed me. But then another thought came, a quiet little whisper I’ve come to recognize as grace.

The Lie of the "Perfect" Arrival

For so many years, I believed the lie that I had to show up perfectly. With the perfect dish, the perfect outfit, a perfectly calm and put-together spirit. If I couldn't bring my best, I thought it was better not to bring myself at all. I was afraid of being a burden, of looking like I couldn't handle things, of being… well, a mess.

But as I stood in my kitchen, staring at the can of mushroom soup, I thought about my sister. I thought about my nephews, whose laughter I could almost hear. Did they care if my casserole was there? Did they care if my hair was brushed? No. They just wanted me. They wanted my presence, not my performance.

It’s a lesson God has been gently teaching me my whole life. He doesn’t ask us to clean ourselves up before we come to Him in prayer. He just wants us to show up, with our tired hearts, our messy thoughts, and our unbrushed faith. He meets us right there. Why is it so hard for us to offer that same grace to each other?

A Season for Showing Up

This time of year, as we head toward Thanksgiving, the pressure can be immense. The pressure for the perfectly roasted turkey, the sparkling clean house, the harmonious family gathering. We put so much effort into the presentation that we risk missing the point of it all.

The point is connection. The point is gratitude for the people sitting around our table, not just the food that’s on it. The gift isn’t the pie you spent hours on; the gift is your time, your attention, your love.

So, I took a deep breath, washed my hands, and put on a clean shirt. I texted my sister: “So sorry I’m running so late! The day got wild. Heading over now, but without the casserole!”

Her reply came back instantly: “Don’t you dare worry about it! We have plenty of food. Just get here safely! We can’t wait to see you.”

Presence is the Real Present

When I walked in, late and flustered, with nothing but my purse in my hands, I was met with hugs. My nephew ran over to tell me a long story about his school project. My sister handed me a glass of iced tea. No one mentioned the missing casserole. No one looked twice at my less-than-perfect hair.

We talked. We laughed. We were just… together. And in that moment, I was so profoundly grateful. Grateful for family, grateful for grace, and grateful that I chose to show up, just as I was.

In this empty-nester season of life, I’m learning that these moments are what matter. The shared stories, the easy laughter, the simple act of being present in someone’s life. Perfection is a thief that will rob you of these ordinary, holy moments if you let it.

So this is my gentle encouragement to you, my friend, especially in this busy season. If you’re running late, go anyway. If you forgot the bottle of wine, show up empty-handed. If you feel like a mess, please know that your presence is the only thing that’s truly required. Come with your unbrushed hair and your tired heart. You belong there.

When was a time you were so glad you showed up, even when it felt hard or you felt less than perfect? I would truly love to read your story in the comments below.

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Have a cup of coffee & a quiet moment...

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