Thank you, Cristina. May your words be as much of a blessing to my readers as they were to me.
Today I read an article about killing off supermom. Although
I have heard all the stories before about how moms just can’t be perfect
followed by an explanation of the author’s own imperfections, I find myself
still thinking that it simply is not okay to have downfalls. I have grown up in
a society that says, “If you stop improving yourself you have given up on a
quality filled life for you and those around you.” This is also a truly good community
who has taught me to never judge anyone for anything, accept yourself for who
you are…but never stop trying to make yourself better. For some reason, that
last part is just enough to say, “You will never be off the hook, lady.” I like
to think I portray perfection. The things I do seem commendable. The work I
have done in the past seems it might be admirable to someone. My husband and
kids are beautiful and smart and funny. The food that I make tastes good. And
the house that I keep is always clean.
This is the view of me that I like to think
people are seeing. Until…..I find myself gossiping with someone I don’t really
know about someone else I don’t really know and later think that was totally
unnecessary and wonder when my words are going to come back to haunt me. Until
I get a new project at work that I never done before, and I am internally
psychotic about it because it may be the reveal of this woman who Googles and
YouTubes everything because I, myself, don’t know as much as it seems I know.
Until my kids that are beautiful and smart and funny have chocolate covered
faces at church, can’t for the life of them tell me why the Wii remote is
chewed on (and we don’t have any animals in the house), and are screaming and
running through the isles at the store. Until my husband tells me he misses me
when I have been home for hours in our little house and haven’t seen him at
all. Until I try to empty the dishwasher while I am cooking and something gets
burned or broken. Until a friend stops by unannounced and sees that the dishes
are piled high in my sink, the cobwebs are dangling from the corners, the
garbage has trumped my air freshener, and I have a leaning tower of mail
waiting to fall over on top of my microwave.
Again, I turn inward and turn all
of these imperfections into more, needed “self-improvements.” I blame
myself…every time…maybe if I wasn’t so busy googling a fancy synonym for a word
on my resume I would have noticed my kids had climbed on the kitchen counters
and eaten all the chocolate chips. Maybe if I had been paying attention to what
time it was I could have gotten everyone to bed early and done more cleaning.
Maybe if I hadn’t been playing with my kids for too long I could have been a
better employee, which today equals continuing to work from home after the
workday has ended. Maybe if I did a better job at work I would make more money,
which in turn would result in me opening the pile of mail I have on my
microwave because I would have the money to pay the bills I am avoiding.
The
list goes on and on. It’s a game I am convinced nearly every woman plays with
herself daily. And by the end of the day we resolve that we have lost, that we
will never win so why play the game, and that we will never be enough. Yet,
sleep is the magic medicine that makes us wake up and think, “Today is the day
I will prove my perfection yet again!” The incentive to be better, for me,
really lies in my surroundings. What do I see daily? I see people who are beautiful,
people who are self-assured, people who are unbelievably clean, and even many
people who claim to be imperfect. I too claim that title of imperfection but
secretly hope that someone else thinks I am just being modest. I reach for
perfection because I want my husband to be proud of his family, his wife, his
home, and his kids.
I reach for perfection because I have a God who is perfect
in every way and deserves a better servant than what I am being. In the end,
however, what is the objective of perfection? Personal glory, bragging rights,
and a moment of overinflated self-satisfaction? At the end of the day do I want
to be glorified for perfection? No! I want to be commended on a job well done
because I worked hard and had some self-inflicted hurdles to jump over along
the way. Do I want bragging rights? No. I believe the Bible is right when it
says in 1 Corinthians 4:7: “What do you have that God hasn’t given you? And if
everything you have is from God, why boast as though it were not a gift?” And
finally, is the overinflated self-satisfaction really that gratifying when I
know that the only things that have been done right have been because I was
lucky that nothing went wrong?
I will probably never stop wanting to be perfect. It is
human nature to want to be the best. I will resign that I am not perfect or the
best. I will preach to my children that life is not about getting everything
right. And I will accept that the desire itself to be perfect is more selfish
than anything else.
Centuries before me women tried to be perfect. Centuries
after me women will continue to try to be perfect. There will probably never be
a point where we all just say, “The buck stops here!” We, as women, may never
allow each other to say it and mean it. That said, stop for one moment and make
some projections with me. At my funeral, my perfections may be discussed…my
successes might be revealed. For less than one hour, my life will be summed up
and I will shortly thereafter be covered in dirt in a perfect shiny casket. All
that is written will be all that remains of my life as perfect as it should
look on a piece of paper. But with a perfect lifelong resume I cannot make
anyone else smile. The imperfections are what will make them remember; what
will make them laugh. With a perfect home I will never look like the type of
person who would have been compassionate toward those who can’t keep their
house clean, which means I will not have been truly perfect.
If my children’s
lives are perfect, they will never know the fun that it is to laugh about their
mistakes, become addicted to a TV show, or enjoy an unhealthy family tradition
of Sunday night chocolate pancakes and bacon followed by ice cream and brownies
for dessert. The things that we do that are so imperfect are the things that
make life interesting, cliché as that sounds. Perfection doesn’t get anyone’s
attention, it gets to be expected. And at the pearly gates, all that I bring to
God that I have done perfectly will be judged as useless because I left behind too
many people who think that because I expected it of myself I expect it of them.
By doing so they turn inward because they have seen me do it. They believe
their own perfection will get them somewhere better when the truth is that
turning outward, letting go, and living to serve other people is where the
pride is. I quote this popular prayer today as a reminder to myself to be
imperfect, in this world, in order to hold the hand of that perfect man in
heaven whom I hope one day will tell me, “Well done…you weren’t perfect, but I
didn’t want you to be.”
“My Father, I desire that the attitude of John the Baptist
might be my own – that Jesus would increase even as I decrease. Give me an ever-larger
picture of you so I might see myself with ever-increasing clarity and revel
each day in your amazing grace. Keep foolish pride far from me, and give me the
sense to humble myself in healthy ways that bring strength and joy to everyone
around me. Remind me constantly, Lord, that you hold my life and breath and
eternal future in your loving hands and that every good thing I have comes from
you. Never let me forget that although without you I can do nothing, in Christ
I can do all things. The difference is you. In Jesus’ name I pray, Amen.” 
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