Perfection Is An Illusion

When you think of perfection, what does your mind’s eye conjure up?

Models, movie stars, mean girls, men climbing the corporate ladder, I could go on and on. Or maybe it’s the negative side of self-talk you feed yourself. I’m not pretty enough, thin enough, smart enough, tall enough, dark enough, light enough, whatever you tell yourself when you feel you don’t measure up.

As women, we tend to compare ourselves to whoever is trending, what Hollywood look is in, or sometimes just who is prevalent in our own circles of connection. Men wrestle with self-esteem issues, too.

I think we do ourselves a disservice when we compare ourselves to others. The judgment we pile onto ourselves and others because they don’t look or think a certain way weighs us down in ways we aren’t even aware of. I see people spew hate and discontent because they aren’t happy with themselves. Those people in turn feel the need to make others feel as discontented as they are. They long for people to see the world through the same scarred lenses they do.

There is a story in the Bible where Saul becomes Paul. Specifically where the scales fall from his eyes and he can see again. He is a changed man, a new man. He no longer looks at the world in the same way. Acts 9:18 “Immediately, something like scales fell from Saul’s eyes, and he could see again.”

I think we all have times in our lives when the scales have to be removed from our eyes and we can see life differently, we become forever changed. Saul was a terrible person, he did horrific things, but God changed him and used him in ways he could never imagine.

Oftentimes we trudge along through life seeing only one way. We judge how our lives could have been or should have been because we were told it should be this or that. Maybe we compare it to what we see our neighbors have. We struggle to make ours just like theirs because it looks perfect to us. However, we only see one side of things. What happens on the other side may be a whole different picture. It isn’t until something upsets the view that we come away seeing things differently.

We have to stop looking for perfection and realize we are all God’s handiwork. The stitching may appear haphazard, but when you flip the tapestry over, it’s beautiful, it’s what God sees as perfect. Our eyes do not see things the same way.

When I was much younger I felt so detached from everything, my family life was estranged, my self-esteem was nonexistent, and I believed I deserved every bad thing that came my way. And believe me a lot of bad came my way. I put myself directly in the middle of the wrong path, thinking I could never be anything else. I thought I was damaged beyond repair. I could never obtain anything close to perfection.

Then someone told me God doesn’t make junk, but people do. We make piles and piles of junk every day with the criticism and pain we heap upon each other and ourselves as we strive for perfection that doesn’t exist. Perfection is only an illusion created by a comparison we create.

Imagine how boring the world would be if we were all alike. I want to be the brightly colored thread in the tapestry I referenced earlier. On the underside, I am knotted and pieced together, but on the upper side, I am the strand that helps pull it all together and enriches all of the strands that surround me.

You can’t make a beautiful tapestry with one thread of the same color and thickness, it takes many strands all woven together to make it beautiful. We all have our own unique talents and gifts to bring to the party of life. Don’t compare your gifts or your story to another, you were put in place to come alongside someone who needs your gifts and your story as much as you need to share it. It is by sharing we make each other beautiful and perfect in God’s eyes.

How do we stop striving to be something we aren’t? Or stop emulating someone’s shallow persona? How do we learn to just be who we are?

I believe we are here to show kindness and love, to come alongside each other, and to help each other get through every day as it comes. I know this sounds utopian, and you don’t have to share my beliefs or even agree with me, but I hope you pull something positive from this.

Trust me I am far from perfect. I just know for me, when I stopped searching for perfection, I found myself. And, even with all my imperfections, I like who I am. I actually think all my imperfections make me a little more interesting. There is good and bad in everyone, I pray every day, that my good outweighs my bad.

Be blessed, gentle reader.

Laugh

The things I know about my birth father’s personality I can count on one hand. 1. His birthday was April 15 so, he was an Aries. 2. He was the life of the party. 3. When he smiled, he lit up a room. 4. He could laugh at himself. 5. He loved women (probably too much, it’s what caused his death, but that’s a story for another day).

I like to think that I got my love of life and people from my father. I enjoy being the first one at an event and the last one to leave. I am just as happy to help set up the party or the cleanup afterward. As long as everyone is having a good time, I’m in my happy place.

I’ve been told my father was the first to laugh at himself. I think I’m a lot like that. My mother said my father’s philosophy was a line from a poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox’s poem “Solitude”. The line is…Laugh and the world laughs with you. If you haven’t read her writing, I encourage you to do so. I love her poetry. The poem itself is a testament that when life is good people want to share in your happiness but when times get tough, you are left to bear your burdens alone. So, the lesson I took from this is to find the joy in all things, it is better to laugh.

Life is too short, and too precious to be unhappy. I’m not saying I don’t have bad days, I do. I just don’t dwell on them and I look for the lessons that usually come from those days. I see so many people struggling, hurting, and sad or angry at where they are or what has happened to them. This life is oftentimes harder than we can imagine but there is beauty here as well.

At this stage in my life, much of the beauty that surrounds me is in the friends I have, those who love me just as I am. They laugh with me and that makes my life richer for the experience. Laughter is good for the soul. I also think it is healing, through all of the troubles and trials of life, laughter has healed my broken pieces.

Laughter is the spark that starts most relationships and I think it is what sustains relationships. There is no better feeling than being able to share laughter with someone you care about. Those moments are so special.

I also use laughter as a coping mechanism. I’m often socially awkward, or clumsy. Rather than feeling uncomfortable, those moments make me giggle inside or laugh out loud, depending on what occurred. Of course, most people don’t realize when I’m internally laughing at myself, but when it happens it helps me shake it off moment and move forward.

I recently heard a talk about anxiety. When you feel anxious and you feel your mind begins to overthink and spin out, catch yourself and take a moment to just breathe, and instead of telling yourself why everything will go wrong, ask yourself, “What if everything goes right?” Take your negative and shine a positive light on it.

Do you use humor or laughter to cope? What makes you laugh? Can you move past the pain of life into joy?

There is a simple joy in just being. Many people don’t truly grasp the concept of living one day at a time, let alone one moment at a time. When you slow everything down to a moment in time, knowing that at this moment it is all it can be. It can’t be redone. It is here and it is gone. So let me be joyful in this moment, with this situation, with me as I am, right now. Then as this moment expands to the next moment let me carry it forward.

I pray you find joy in the hard moments and peace in the years.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox - It is easy enough to be pleasant when life flows by like a song.

Quietly Vulnerable

Why is it considered brave to weather the storm without breaking down? Countless times since my husband passed away I have been called brave. I don’t understand this concept, it is not as if I had a choice, I just had to move forward. For me, it isn’t bravery, it is a necessity, putting one foot in front of the other.

Photo by Min An on Pexels.com

I have struggled with writing this post for the past two and a half years. A friend recently told me not to worry about what others will think, just write it. So here I am, being quietly vulnerable. This isn’t going to be a fun post for me, but maybe once it is out of my brain, I can move on.

I am a very animated and outgoing person, I am not a person prone to drama in my everyday life. I much prefer positivity rather than negativity, and laughter rather than tears. I am empathetic and can easily cry and pray with and for friends. I am happy to help others bear their burdens. Why do I find it so hard to cry and pray for myself? Why do I feel that if I cry or ask God for a personal need, I am weak? I find it hard to be vulnerable, to let my guard down. I find it nearly impossible to cry cleansing tears for myself and my grief in the presence of others.

Andy passed away during COVID from a stroke. Because of the restrictions, it was a time when people could not grieve alongside me. There was limited personal or physical contact with others. His memorial was done over Zoom and is now on Youtube. I sat in my dining room alone and listened to people share memories. It was beautiful, but I was isolated. His funeral happened a year and a half later. It was a small private event and is also on YouTube. People from across the globe attended in real-time and it was beautiful, but still, I was isolated.

I had friends who cared for me and prayed for me, but the thing I longed for was someone to just hold me while I cried. Not just anyone, I wanted strong male arms to hold me and give me comfort. That is something I have longed for my whole life. Not having a father figure in my life brought that wound to the forefront. It wasn’t until times of despair I realized how much I needed a strong male in my life. That doesn’t mean being physically strong. While that is nice, I need them to have a backbone. For me, it means emotionally strong, spiritually strong, and mentally strong. Someone I can respect and who has the ability to open up and be vulnerable alongside me.

That is so hard for me to admit. I have long been the independent, strong-willed, get-things-done woman. Admitting that I need someone feels like an impossible task. The first time someone hugged me after the pandemic subsided I thought I would shatter and break down. I felt it bubbling up inside me and I cut it off. I locked my emotions down tight. I couldn’t be that vulnerable with another person.

Most strong women cry in the shower, did you know that? Rather than appear weak, we isolate ourselves and cry while we are alone and no one sees it. Or we scream into pillows. Doing whatever we have to do in order to remain smooth on the surface.

I remember when the planes hit the towers on 911, I just knew Andy was going to the desert again. Deployment was imminent. I just had stitches removed after major surgery and was finally allowed to shower. I made my excuses and slipped away, turned the water on hot, and stood there and cried until the water turned cold.

I did not want to burden anyone with my tears, my feelings, my anxieties about what may come. I could not bring myself to voice the worry I had, but I also could not show the weakness I felt at being powerless.

Being vulnerable is all about trust. I have trust issues. There it is. There have been very few people in my life with whom I have had a level of trust to show my vulnerability. I realized the struggle I was bumping up against was my own fear of being vulnerable. Miriam-Webster defines vulnerability as being capable of being physically or emotionally wounded or open to attack or damage.

Who wants to risk it? Why would I put myself in a space like that? I learned a long time ago that if I put everything out there, then no one could use it against me. If I learned to laugh at myself, others’ laughter wouldn’t bother me. So, I tend to be very open and honest about things and tend to go through life with a sense of humor. However, there is a part of me that will remain closed off until someone shows me they can be trusted.

I’m pretty positive that it’s why I’m afraid to date anyone. So therein lies the problem, life has become a Catch-22. A problem for which the only solution is denied by a circumstance inherent in the problem or by a rule (per Wikipedia).

I have been slowly making my way out of my comfort zone, being vulnerable. I know what I need, and I know what I don’t need, it’s still a learning process in this journey of self-discovery. So the challenge to myself is to take cautious steps forward and to keep taking them even when I want to retreat.

This is hard. But really, it’s just me being vulnerable.

Afraid of the Heart

Heart in the sand on the beach
Photo by Ave Calvar Martinez on Pexels.com
Where are you
coming from
Where are you 
going

Lost in the shuffle
Feeling alone 
In the bustle
Listening, waiting
For the tussle

You don’t know
When the trouble
Will come
When it does 
It will be double

That’s always been
Your pattern
Your past
So you guard 
Your heart 
Thinking love
Will never last

You sit quietly alone
Content to chew on memories
Like a dog with a bone

Afraid to let go
And fall
For fear of hitting the wall
Fearing the chance
Not willing to dance

Empty is what you know
Your heart could be full
If you only let go

But you are afraid of the heart
Never wanting to be torn apart
Again
But if not now,
When

So you exist in the blues
Not sad, but true
Waiting for something sweet
just beyond your reach

You're thinking
Is it worth the fire
To forge the steel
Why try for something real

I understand how you feel
Me too, I am just like you
Can I open my heart 
and begin to feel

The heart is strong
Beating on as if nothing is wrong
Fear is the beast
That makes us weak
Waiting to tear us apart
It was never the heart

How do I lose the fear
Of the heart
I trust it to someone
Who created it to be strong
He's been with me all along

My prayer for you,
Is that you know Him too.



Worst Typo Ever

As often happens my mind picks up small threads and weaves them into something I wasn’t expecting. God has a way of working on me like that. Sometimes the strangest thing will set my wheels in motion and then it gets scribbled down in a journal somewhere and during prayer and meditation, it turns into something else. Eventually, it ends up here for my fine readers to ponder upon.

Recently a friend of mine told a joke, he was then told it was racist. The joke, while maybe in questionable taste, was never intended to be racist. I would never think of this person in that light. His actions do not match the words, I’ll unpack that more as we go.

This is the thread my mind picked up…Has it become so easy for us to judge one another based on a poorly phrased, misspoken, errored, or unwitting statement? Do we discount and discard the person altogether because of something they said? As my boss likes to say, we often throw the baby out with the bathwater.

For 25 years I had a career as a graphic artist. It was a lifetime or two ago before I delved into managing a newspaper or working as a marketing manager or working for a nonprofit. If you could put a logo on something I did the artwork for it, from billboard-sized signs to golf tees.

Creating art for someone else gives you a pretty thick skin. You have to be able to take someone else’s vision and make it come to life. You also have to be able to take their criticism and feedback to give them the design they want, oftentimes leaving your preferences on the cutting room floor. Things happen, instructions get can lost in translation or words get missed in proofreading. When this happens there is usually a conversation where someone has to eat a little crow. And since the customer is always right, it is usually the designer.

I had one such episode. At the time, I worked for a very large printing company in Nashville. We produced ad specialties and had an extensive calendar line for customers to choose from and customize.

I had worked on a very large wall calendar that had multiple advertisements on it for a veterinarian. They ordered 10,000 calendars to be distributed. It was very copy-heavy and graphic-intensive. The piece went through proofreading multiple times, went to the plate maker for printing prep, and finally to the press. Everyone in the company had laid eyes on this piece before it went out the door. And yet….

Two weeks later, I get called into the CEO’s office. The question, “Are you anti-Semitic?” Stunned and dumbfounded, I could only answer, “No, not at all.” My boss, who was Jewish, said “I didn’t think so but I just had to ask.”

At a loss for words, all I could say was, “Why?” He tells me he had a very good customer call him ranting that they couldn’t believe a Jewish company (they were also a Jewish company) would let such slanderous material leave their shop and that we should be ashamed.

My face lost all of its color when I saw the large calendar laid out behind his desk. He pointed to the area and said, “How did this happen?”

In VERY LARGE, very bold type was the name, address, and phone number of the veterinarian. Instead of the state being New Jersey, it said Jew Jersey. I was mortified. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me.

My boss, being the kind gentle soul that he was, put his hand on my shoulder and said, “I know you did not do this on purpose, the words do not match your actions, you are kind and caring, this is not who you are. But, I have to tell the client what happened and the company will have to reprint all of these calendars at no charge.”

I knew exactly what happened. I had been interrupted and when my hands went back to the keyboard, my right hand was one row higher on the keyboard and not on the home keys. I showed him on his keyboard how it happened and he was relieved it was such a simple mistake.

I have never forgotten that mistake, nor the words he spoke to me about the mistake. My words did not match my actions, it was not who I was. There have been many times I have misspoken, and said the wrong thing at the wrong time, my words came from ignorance. However, as I have lived, I have learned. We all have lessons to learn. I am so thankful that the people who were willing to walk alongside me did not discard me because of my ignorance and allowed me to learn from them.

Too often, we are not willing to meet someone where they are and spend time learning who they are and realizing we can learn from them. We throw out quick judgments and cut people off before giving them a chance. We cast blame, and tell them what they should be doing, or how they should be thinking. Pressing forward without listening or learning. We think we have all the answers or know what’s best without truly understanding the situation. That behavior gets you nowhere and builds walls rather than tearing them down and making progress.

It is not until we know a person and are willing to walk alongside them without judgment that can we see if their actions and words align. Leading child psychiatrist, Dr. James Comer said, “No significant learning occurs without significant relationship.”

I grew up in a very judgmental home where there were few significant relationships. Sadly, there are times when people’s actions do match their words. People who are hurting hurt people and distance themselves to avoid more pain. It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy of a solitary existence. They often feel they don’t measure up, so no one else can. This can make relationships impossible because there is no flexibility, no grace, no compromise, only negativity, and the need for you to bend to their will. I have found those people I have to love from a distance, they rob me of my peace and well-being. You have to find your own balance. You can not plant seeds in concrete, nothing takes root until the seed finds a crack and even then the seed struggles to grow.

Everyone has a bias of one kind or another, no one is without sin, and we all fall short. Now, the question is, can we offer the same grace that is given to us? That is a hard task to do at times and sometimes we have to do it from a distance and know that God is in control.

Now, I have to admit, I had one other terribly memorable typo in my career. I worked for a company that designed collegiate wear and I did the artwork for a women’s track team in West Virginia, I’ll let you ponder what that typo could have been and what the ensuing conversation was like.

Now, in honor of how this train of thought got started and for old time’s sake, I thought I’d close with a joke for my graphic arts and proofreading friends…

Helvetica and Times New Roman walk into a bar. “Get out of here!” Shouts the bartender, “We don’t serve your type.”

Remember to smile, you’ll brighten someone’s day.