“It was a perfect evening.” “That dress fits you perfectly,” (yeah, wait a year), “The school is perfect for you,” and the best of all, “I’m perfectly content being alone.” “The boss is coming over tonight, everything needs to be perfect!”
Like “absolutely,” “basically” and “honestly,” another word can be added to the list of exaggerations, “perfect.”
What may have been “perfect” at your wedding is that the troublesome guy didn’t show up. “She’s the picture of perfection,” says the guy who wants to frame and hang the object of his affection.
Does perfect mean there no mistakes or mishaps as inevitably occurs in life? If that’s true, it’s like saying, “You’re not sick so you must be very healthy!”
Perfection is reached when mistakes are acknowledged and mostly importantly smiled upon by two people. (Now there’s a wedding card.)
The perfection of Jesus is overrated when quick examples are provided; denying his mother more wine, scoffing at the woman who asked him for something and he compares her to dogs and doubting God at the Gethsemane stone when he bargains God to pass the cup pass him. So, wasn’t Jesus perfect in his imperfections? Is the miracle of the carpenter’s son made God that he was able to learn from mistakes and move just a tad closer to “who he is;” the same challenge that is given to us every day of our lives?
Beginning your day with hopes of perfection just swallows that same day into life’s twists. (Maybe it’s a Midwest thing where every sunny day has the remark, “Oh, but it’ll rain tomorrow!”) I don’t know but I think a type of perfection is achievable through mistakes.
We know everything I’m saying but we hope to trick those around us into thinking that we’ve reached it. They smile and envy us while walking away jealous. (The games we play with each other.)
If I were in architecture, I guess it’d be a different game with lots of checks and rechecks. But this is only my life with all its imperfections.
I like making mistakes. It gives others an opportunity to correct me which makes them feel good about themselves and also helps me. I’m learning – it is better to serve the better wine when the lesser was served first, it is listening to the woman kneeling before me with her simple request and the great Gethsemane stone of acceptance is the God-path I need to follow.
It is perfect in spite of me? Or, is it perfect, in all my imperfections, because of me?