When my 83 year old mama was diagnosed with cancer (last year in November), my heart sank. For the past year she'd been taking care of my 86 year old daddy--who is suffering repercussions of treatment for prostate cancer.

I hate cancer.

My parents just celebrated their 65th wedding anniversary! They'd talked about it all year. I think August 14 was like a milestone they were hoping to reach--both of them struggling with their health; both of them clinging to what's left for them of this life on earth. They are 84 and 87 now, and they are still getting themselves to their doctor's appointments, and lab treatments, and that is pretty much a full time job! 

It's sobering to see where we're all headed if we live long enough. I hope that I breathe through that season with the endurance and gentleness they are exhibiting. 

All of us (daughters, sons-in-law, grandchildren, grand S'sIL and great grands) spent the weekend before August 14 with them. We wanted to honor them and celebrate what their 65 year marriage has meant to us. We made a sweet video--telling them! 

My niece Kes, and her husband Justin, were noticing a few of my paintings scattered throughout my mom and dad's house. To be honest, their walls are kind of like a museum of mine and my sisters' childhoods, sprinkled with oil paintings I created when I was a teenager. It's like the "Leighann Keesee" exhibit came and never left. 

They especially noticed 2 paintings of sad clowns. 

I told them that for some reason I loved painting sad clowns. I shared how I'd collected clowns as a child. I wasn't sure why--but they kind of spoke to the deep parts of me. I shared how clowns take the stage when the attention of the crowd needs to be distracted from something that's gone wrong, or, when it needs to be relieved when something was intense.

Like at a rodeo. Clowns entertain the spectators, but they also protect bull riders. They run into the ring and distract the bull from its fallen rider--giving him the opportunity to escape. Then in a circus tent, they provide the audience with much-needed relief in between breath-taking acts involving acrobats and animals. I told Justin and Kes about the song, Send in the Clowns, and how the lyrics speak of a time when the clowns were needed because the lovers missed their opportunity to experience all that they longed for in each other. 

Isn't it rich, aren't we a pair? Me here at last on the ground, you in mid-air.

That's when I realized why I loved painting sad clowns. Clowns paint their faces so they can serve people comic relief and distraction from dangerous, embarrassing, or even humiliating mistakes and blunders. Their role is to lighten the mood and provide space to take a breath. Their painted faces and silly antics are "put on" so they can help the crowds.

But, when their tears leak onto their painted faces, and the pain in their hearts exposes the vulnerable, aching soul underneath...there is something raw and real about that. It's like taking off the mask, and letting your self come forth whether you want to or not.

Sad clowns can't do what they were meant to do--not right now--because they need a minute. They need some clowns of their own.

I almost took those sad clowns home with me because they spoke to my own soul all over again.

How many times, as a pastor's wife, a ministry leader, a woman in ministry, a speaker and author--have I painted my face and performed for the crowd? I wasn't trying to hide anything, I was just giving my best and serving my people--fulfilling my role.

But sometimes, I needed a minute. Deep inside of me, I longed to let the people know who I really am, but I was afraid. If they saw me without my make-up, my big red nose, and ridiculous outfit--they might discover how hard it is to warrior up when I'm worn out.

I wondered at how I felt the depth of those kinds of emotions as a teenager, before life ever really happened to me at all! And, then how now...in the thick of it...when I could really use some clowns...they seem to be gone.

I wonder also how many sad clowns we interact with each day. I wonder what might happen if we just loved each other...I mean, really loved each other--without worrying about power, success, control, reputation, image, and all the other things we try so desperately to paint and perform. I wonder what might happen if we embraced each other boldly with no thought of how their big red nose might smear on our collar. Even if they don't know Jesus, or come to church, or have a hard time figuring out where they fit in this great big world.

Maybe it's time to give somebody a hug. To listen to their heart. And to appreciate that children, grandchildren and great grandchildren have in their lineage 2 people who chose love for 65+ years. Maybe it's time to let the tears stream down our painted faces, and realize we're not alone.

Where are the clowns? There ought to be clowns...