No one's life is perfect.We hear that all the time. We hear it so much it's just one of those meaningless things we say like, "tomorrow's another day". We know as they escape our mouths that it was just noise, just a thing to say to fill the uncomfortable sorrow, just a wishful thought devoid of hope and meant as a mild excuse for all our countless daily shortcomings. We shouldn't be arrogant, or selfish, or conceited but we have taken that WAY too far, to the point, almost, of self hatred and abuse.
When does it all get to be OK? It's ok we went to bed with a sink full of dishes because we were having a family day at the park. It's ok the kids went to school dirty from yesterday when we worked in the yard all evening and were too tired when the meltdowns started to mop an entire bathroom after the bath time deluge. It's ok my kids ARE neat and tidy and I'm really good at organizing and scheduling and cleaning. It's ok we didn't have kids at all. It's ok I work as a janitor and go fishing on the weekends. It's ok I rock my white collar job and never want to step foot outdoors at all. It's ok I don't care about politics or Monsanto, or what sale is where. It's ok I like to boycott loads of things on principle. It's ok I HATE crafting. It's ok sometimes I'm sad, or mad, or feel a little melancholy for no reason. It's ok I'm always pretty happy. It's ok I have what they call ADHD and I don't see it as a defect at all. In fact, really actually LIKE my brain all sped up and bouncy without meds.
There aren't enough hours in the day. There's another one that suggests
we fail at time management, at seizing the day, at life, but would that help? REALLY? How
super-person do we need to be? The kids are loved. Some work got done, some family time spent together. When will what we DO become ENOUGH? Who will teach us how to live our lives with contentment because we LIVED our lives, together? We made a GREAT run of the day and, yeah, we skipped a few hurdles and wrestled with our emotions but, all in all, the day was full. Not FAILED.
The older I get, the more humanity's plight breaks my heart. We live like husks of people. Blowing to and fro on a wind of rush, rush, rush and in the breezes of better, better, better. We pass on to our kids and our friends the idea that we are failures when they look up to us as their everything. Ok, so any kid past five or so decides the world should be THEIR way and we parents are in THEIR way, but come the hurts, the questions, the fears, and delights to whom do they run to share them? We teach everyone that no matter how hard they work or how much they achieve, it will NEVER measure up.
Just who are we measuring, anyway? We have to be Martha Stewart, Gordon Ramsey, an astrophysicist, coupon mom (or dad) of the year, Bill Gates, that super spunky soccer parent, the foremost authority on everything, a successful career person, homemaker extraordinaire, and Jesus all rolled into one. And that is what we teach our kids they need to become if they want to be good at life, but we tell them that they are great how they are. They know what you really mean: I have to be better, better at everything, and you will be enough, maybe, probably not. No, you'll never be enough.
Not to say we shouldn't have goals and aspire to greatness, but seriously, we ARE pretty awesome already. LIFE is pretty awesome, even when it's sad. Accept your strengths without embarrassment because GOD gave them to you, it wasn't really any credit to you alone anyway. It's ok to be GREAT at things. Let your weaknesses be ok, too, because we are all a different part of a whole body and we were built to be great at some things and utter junk at others. Why? Because other people were made to be awesome at that other stuff. Not to SHAME you but just to live with variety, with spice, with individuality and wholeness!
You need a bunch of different flowers to make a bouquet. We can't all be daisies and we can't all be roses and the daises need to stop wishing they were roses and realize that some of us prefer daisies anyway (and some don't). In the realm of flowers I fancy myself a milk thistle. It's sharp and wild and horrible for gardens, unfriendly for picking, and not at all meant to be in a bouquet, but draws butterflies and has a deep, deep root. What kind of person are you? Can that just be ok and, most times, even GREAT?
