Striving for Perfection
I’ve been at my parents’ home in Pennsylvania for the past week and a half celebrating the holidays. One of the things my mom wanted me to do while visiting was to go through all of the boxes of school paperwork that she has saved since I was in the first grade.
Out of the large stack, one thing in particular caught my eye: my fourth grade spelling tests. These stood out because my mom had saved all of them from the entire year. As I flipped through them she proudly pointed out the 100% written on each page in bright red. But there was one, one single solitary test that had a different mark on its right hand corner—95%. I actually remember that test—I remembered the word I had spelled wrong—innocent. I had mistakenly spelled it with an s instead of a c.
I remembered that day because I could still recall how I had beat myself up for weeks over that one simple word, that one test. I remembered because it was my goal at that moment to be perfect. I would study and study and study those words for hours because I needed to get that 100%, needed to have another perfect test in my folder. Because even if other areas of my life were less than stellar, less than ideal, this was one area where I could be flawless, seamless, perfect.
Desires for perfection always arise around the beginning of a new year. Many of us still make New Year’s resolutions in which we strive to improve ourselves in some way—either small and workable or, more likely, completely unattainable and destined to be forgotten by February. I usually resolve once again to never let white sugar cross my lips, to walk on that treadmill at least 30 minutes every single day, to practice yoga every night before bed, to read at least one hour a day and to make sure that all sermons are written and done by Friday evening. But not this year. This year I’m going to resolve to do something much more attainable— I’m going to resolve to be imperfect.
When our striving for perfection slips into perfectionism, the very things in our lives that might bring us joy can bring us torment. Everywhere we look—family, friends, jobs, hobbies— we see not the beauty but the flaws, the faults, the deficiencies, the imperfections. When we expect the various pieces of our lives to be flawless, our expectations will come up short every time. Instead of focusing on the good and being grateful for what we have and what we have done, we are unsatisfied, thinking only of our limitations and shortcomings.
But…resolving to be imperfect…what a liberating thought. We don’t need resolutions to make us perfect; we can find beauty and hope and comfort and peace as ordinary human beings. And we can feel grateful for what is already right and good. As we begin another year, may we rest in our imperfections. May we acknowledge their presence and rest in the power and possibility of loving what is. May we know that we are loved just as we are, remembering that in the center of our beings we are whole, good, no resolutions necessary. May we awaken to the imperfect perfection already around us and be at peace.
- Striving for Perfection - November 27, 2014
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