Letting go of perfection
Photos lay on the table, stacked in piles, waiting to be put into an
album. Summer is ending and the photos remind me of the good times we
experienced with family and friends. Smiling faces gaze back at me
against beautiful backdrops of mountain vistas and ocean beaches. Life
looks perfect in that split second of time and happiness seems to be a reality.
Viewing life from a camera lens gives a
false sense of what’s real. Memories, like photographs, tend only capture the
perfect moments that are inevitably surrounded by harsh reality. In
striving for this picturesque moment, we ask for excellence in everyone around
us, especially ourselves. But surely the most memorable photographs are those never
taken; since spontaneous, and often hilarious, sometimes tragic, moments are
never captured on film. Our memories must be more inclusive than our photo
albums, lest we miss out on the imperfections. And try as we might to forget,
imperfections are not just a part of life; they are life.
When life’s storms hit, we batten down the hatches. We are in the
moment of dealing with tragedy and forget to demand picture-perfect. When
the intensity lifts, we strive for the sunshine again. We miss the point. There
will always be some sort of drizzle that distracts from the overall perfection
of the moment. Running through a light rain, the water droplets touch my
skin. I began to feel my senses coming alive. The smell of the damp
earth, the sound of the droplets on the leaves by the side of the path, the
salty taste of my perspiration on my lips and the view of the marsh through the
graying light are vivid to me now. Emotions are like my skin.
Running away from undesired feelings, I can avoid going out in the rain,
but then I will overlook the rainbow. I will miss being fully present.
Staring at the photo of my children and me in Clearwater,
Florida, I close my eyes and picture the moments leading up to that shot.
I remember our laughter and an occasional harsh word between siblings.
I remember the imperfection of the experience. Reminding myself
that I am not a perfect mother, sister, daughter, neighbor or Christian, I
embrace the flaws that make me who I am; the part of me that is willing to
take chances, to change, to be creative, vulnerable, willing to make mistakes
as I grow and evolve. These deficiencies also bring me to my knees before the
grace of God.
God
doesn’t require perfection, but in our mad rush to please Him, we think that we
have to be flawless to come before Him. Jesus did that for us. His
blood cleansed us. When approaching God, I imagine what it is like to
have my own child snuggle up beside me. Not asking for me to fix a
problem in their life, but just to be with me and gather strength from our
relationship so they can deal with the situation through new eyes. I
envision how pleasing this is to my Father; the fact that I want to stand in
His presence for the pure joy of being with Him. He loves all of me, even
my faults. I want to look through His rose colored glasses that sees me,
His beautiful, imperfect, cherished, and beloved daughter.
I am letting go of my expectation for perfection. Instead, I am
choosing to walk in the rain.
