As you may already know, over the Labor Day weekend, my dear cousins came to visit for the holiday weekend. We had a blast!!
For four days our household occupancy doubled, the dishwasher ran two times a day, and people could be found sleeping in every nook and cranny of our humble old house. We enjoyed a family kickball game, coffee on the deck in the morning, a group outing to Auburn Heights, and a visit with our Grandma…..
One morning during their visit Cousin Emily turned to me and said: “You know, cuz, your house really is perfectly ordered chaos.”
Hmmmm?
I have to admit my ears perked up with the word “perfect.” The less aware, woefully unevolved part of myself that lurks in the back alleys of my mind still likes to torment me with delusions of perfection.
Then, after I got over that–swatted the thought away like an annoying fly–I heard the rest of what she said, and realized it was indeed the highest compliment I could have hoped for.
She was expressing her admiration for how things seemed to have a place and purpose in our house, even when daily life is swirling around causing intermittent messes and commotion. Really, all of us live with chaos, but being able to have a sense of order underneath it all is how we can cope and thrive.
Perfection is an unobtainable, burdensome idea. Besides, if I were perfect, or my house was, then there wouldn’t be a need to grow, change, or learn new things. And while trying to attain perfection, I would be creating an environment full of stress and struggle, so toxic to the peace and balance that I long for.
It wouldn’t be perfect at all.
I like learning new things and improving myself. I like being an imperfect work in progress. Accepting that my house is one too is a blessing full of possibilities.
