Wanna
Be Perfect?
I did. And I do. By trial and error, I eventually found new
ways to approach perfection.
I’ve been delving into my past, hoping to offer insight into
the mystery of me, past the generational barrier, to my grandchildren, who have
so far only seen the barrier from one side; I’ve seen it coming and going, and
learned much more about my “city Grand-mother”, who kept a journal for over
fifty years, than my “country Grandmother” who may have had less time,
compulsion to record her days, or access to pen and ink.
One trait I regret indulging for much of my life is chasing
perfection. You see, I went about it all wrong. I became aware of this need to
have perfection in the first year of school. So many children took their turn,
one per day, at the easel and its thrilling reds and blues and a pristine
canvas. Finally it was my turn. I gazed intently, gripping the brush tightly.
So many colors, so many ideas whirling in my head. What should I place on this
paper I had waited so long to paint? Some minutes later, with paper still
blank, the teacher took my brush and handed it to someone else. I was
heartbroken. I missed my chance.
A few years later I took piano lessons for four years.
Eventually I reached the limit of my ability, or thought I did. If I couldn’t
perform perfectly, it saddened me to compare what my ears heard with the sound
in my imagination. “If I can’t do it right, I won’t do it at all.”
I was not good at sports. I hated being compared with those
kids who loved baseball and whenever possible I avoided coming up to bat or
stood far out in the field where surely no one would hit a ball in my
direction.
I had found my niche. Do only what I was good at, stick to
books. Some people enjoyed the game without perfection, but it embarrassed me.
In the classroom I recognized that continued effort resulted in measured
improvement, but otherwise I avoided doing in public something that gave others
a chance to laugh at me.
Only one problem with that practice: I didn’t like myself
much, and my pride suffered because of I was letting fear govern my life. Looking back
I began to see missed opportunities, wish I had dared to try some of those
things that looked like so much fun. And yet I knew I was a child of the King of
All There Is and, like the prodigal son, I was living in a pigpen, when I
should be honoring my Father by planning my life around the palace waiting for
me at the end of this road. I was definitely not behaving like His ambassador
to this foreign country—I had measured my worth by this world’s standards. My
pride should have been centered around my King.
Shifting my gaze outward freed me to forget self, learn to see
others as Jesus sees them. I learned winning a race is not important—getting
into the race instead of watching it is success in life. I want to report to my
Commanding Officer some day, as Timothy said:
“I
have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” 2 Timothy 4:7
"Whatever you do, do your work
heartily as for the Lord rather than for men." Colossians 3:23
"It is God who is at work within you,
giving you the will and the power to achieve His
purpose." Philippians 2:13
