Imperfectly Perfect

Do you ever have a word that gets stuck in your head? For some strange reason, the one word that flies out of my mouth lately, is "perfect".

At my daughter's house, she apologized for not having enough pepperoncinis for the salad and my response, "That's okay, everything is PERFECT!" and I meant it too. I looked around at all of the kids, blended together, laughing and playing games and talking at the same time and it was, PERFECT.

I have been training a co-worker on various office support projects. She was making an attempt at something and as she finished, she followed it with, "It's really not very good..." My reply to her: "PERFECT". Using that one little one word, I let her know that I saw how hard she was trying and to me, that equaled PERFECT.

Growing up, I felt like I wasn't perfect enough. It seemed like my older sister did everything PERFECT. I tried to draw, to write, to sing, to dance and yet, the reaction from those that I needed it from the most was that I wasn't PERFECT enough....there was someone else better, no matter how hard I tried. It didn't stop me from fantasizing of what my life would be like if I was PERFECT though. I grew up wishing for a white picket fence existence...you know...the 2 1/2 kids, with the dog and the PERFECT 10 husband. In my longing for PERFECT, the marriage was far from PERFECT and ended when he sought out someone else more "PERFECT" than me.

The more I tried to find PERFECT, I failed. I looked for the PERFECT job....failed. The PERFECT man...failed. Even the PERFECT church...failed. I attempted to have the PERFECT body...failed (miserably). I tried to be the PERFECT mom...failed.

One day, I accepted the fact that I never would be PERFECT. At that moment, it was like the clouds parted and the sun shone brighter than ever before. I walked lighter. I smiled more. I laughed freely. I began to write again, pulling myself away from editing constantly and signing "The End" more quickly. I began to draw and then paint the way I saw things - from my own perspective (imperfect perspective, I might add.)

My son in-law, Jonathan is the PERFECT example of loving imperfectly perfect. For a potluck, my daughter brought over green beans with a recipe that she considered the best recipe ever. The recipe included placing the green beans in the oven for a few minutes. We all sat down to eat, deciding that the green beans would be a welcome surprise to our palates when they were cooked. Ten minutes went by when Ev'Yan screamed and went running for the forgotten green beans. She took out the cookie sheet of charbroiled green beans, devastated. Not missing a beat, Jonathan went over to the cookie sheet and grabbed a green bean and took a bite. He closed his eyes with pure enjoyment and said, "This is the best green bean I've ever tasted. You oughta burn some more!"

I am happy to be Imperfectly Perfect because I have more to reach for instead of running from. While seeking imperfectly perfect, I feel comfortably at ease and more content. I no longer care what others think of how I look, what I weigh, what I say or how I act. I have let go of PERFECT and in it's place I've found that I'm loved just the way I am.