The Kangaroo in Pajamas

You might be one of those rare people who actually has their act together. Solid self-awareness. No masks. No games. You know who you are, and you’re okay with it.

If that’s you, well, good for you. But I’d still like to throw a little self-doubt into your system.

And if you’re like the rest of us—fumbling, flawed, a little reluctant to be fully transparent—then I’ll toss a little humor into the system instead.

Either way, it’s Halloween season. So here’s a story.

When I was ten, my dad and his best friend Clarence—“Pastor Sands” to me—went to Australia. Pastor Sands had baptized me around that same time, so in my world he was a spiritual heavyweight. To my dad, he was just his friend who invited him on an adventure (though I suspect they were mostly in churches where Pastor Sands was teaching).

They came back with stories and souvenirs, but what really stuck with me were the kangaroos they had seen. They sounded like Bugs Bunny on steroids, and I was hooked.

So when Halloween rolled around, I begged for a kangaroo costume. You didn’t just walk into Montgomery Ward and find one, so my mom did what moms did back then—she sewed one. Brown coveralls with a tail sewn on the back, plus a pillowcase “mask” with eye holes so I could see and breathe.

I thought I looked amazing.

At the Sunday School Halloween party, I bounced in like I owned the place. Other kids squinted at me and asked what I was supposed to be. I figured they were just slow. Not my fault they didn’t have a dad who hung out with kangaroos.

The problem? That pillowcase head was hot, sweaty, and impossible to see through. So I ditched it.

When the costume contest started, we paraded around for the judges. I hopped at first, but they had us going so long that I gave up and just walked. 

Third place went to a pirate. Second to a princess. And first place … Snow White.

Really? Snow White? Predictable.

That’s when I realized my kangaroo head was still lying on the floor. So what they saw was a sweaty kid in brown pajamas with a rag dragging behind him. I wanted to yell, “Wait! I’m not a kid in pajamas—I’m a kangaroo! See the tail? Remember the hopping?”

But I didn’t.

Fast-forward to today.

How often do we do the same thing? We think we’re hopping kangaroos, when in reality everyone else just sees a sweaty kid in pajamas. We wear masks. We try on costumes. We fool ourselves long before we fool anyone else, if we ever fool anyone else.

I’m not suggesting we should be Snow White. Well, okay, maybe being a pirate would be cool. But I’m off track, that’s not my point.

The point is, don’t hide behind a costume. Even a good one that wins prizes. All you do is deceive yourself.

So if you see me in a pillow case mask that might sorta look like a kangaroo head, go ahead and laugh, roll your eyes, or just stare awkwardly. I’ve earned it because, in some ways, I’m still just a kangaroo in pajamas.