Yep, I said it. Perfectionism is a dirty word. We see it everywhere, in magazines and on social media. What if we could be so comfortable in our own skin that we didn’t need to be perfect? Embracing the imperfection of a mother, and her house, is a journey I have been on for quite a while, will you join me?
I’ve been in the soil this week weeding and planting. But, on Sunday, I will scrub my hands, and whatever dirt doesn’t come out from under my nails will be covered with a dark polish. Because I want them to look perfect.
Why do I cover up the very thing that brings glory to God?
No, I don’t mean dirty nails are the key to God’s heart, but, caring for that which He created is.
I do the same thing with our house. We have six children, ages 12 and under. You can imagine the state of our house on a regular basis. But, when company comes, I rush around trying my best to show a magazine worthy house. “Shut my bedroom door!” I yell. We definitely don’t want them to see that I am behind on laundry and that 4 kids bed pallets are on the floor.
We don’t want them to see the pile of clean sheets that have been lying beside my bed for weeks waiting to be put on my bed. No, no they can’t know that I am behind in everything, and that it literally took me all day for the house to look nicely lived in (not even clean). Why?
For some reason I have felt it was my duty to show the world that you can have a fabulous house and six children and homeschool and cook every meal and grow a garden and…you get the idea.
Not true. Who am I kidding?
I don’t want them to see the craziness and chaos of our own life. Yet, the very thing I try to hide, God celebrates. No, not that He is pleased when we sleep on dirty sheets. But, that we have chosen a family over perfection.
Then why am I still trying to reach perfection? That boat sailed a long time ago, yet I still struggle to embrace the dirty floors, toys in every crevice and hardened food on the countertops.
I’m still trying to paint over the dirty nails.
And, so the struggle of a mother lives on. We want so desperately to be enough for perfection. So we constantly compare, oh that ugly word.
Here is a word of advice, we will never measure up, because what we are comparing isn’t reality. Everyone puts there best foot forward. No one sees the mother who can’t handle the noise anymore and screams to the top of her lungs, “Everyone just be quiet!” No one sees those moments. Comparison is a fake, an evil ploy from the enemy to destroy the hope of finding ourselves.
Because a dirty house, unbathed children, stains on the carpet, and toys littering the yard do not define me, but my heart does.
We went to the zoo recently and I saw an elephant swaying. Elephants sway in captivity, when they are not free to roam, it is a coping mechanism.
I have been swaying, tricking myself into thinking it is a beautiful dance, but really I’m just as captive as the elephant. Captive to perfection. Not free to roam and just be me. What if we lived our lives out of who we are and not the expectations that we or others have placed on us?
I believe there would be a party in heaven! “She’s got it,” they might say.
I’m not totally there, but I am closer to the kingdom. Caring a little less about the state of the mess, and more about that which I pour my heart into. Living as he designed me, instead of fitting into an earthly box.
It’s time to stop swaying.
~Amanda
Read more about our life here.
