The Perils of Perfection

Today I feel tired. Muscles hurt and my bones feel weary. I don't know why. My guts are doing fairly well but I did have a busier than usual weekend. After a long time we managed to get everyone off to church and off to a family meal afterwards like we used to do many months ago. Events intervened health wise and I got so weary of going anywhere for awhile and so I spent weekends like I spent my week days, mostly resting at home.

My choir mate's daughter passed away last Sunday after a long struggle with brain cancer. I left the sanctuary of home to attend her wake and I sang with the choir at her funeral. It was a meaningful funeral tinged with sadness as she was only 18 years old. I cried tears of sadness for her life cut short and the sorrow of her family, especially her parents. It was a privilege to sing at the funeral, and I also got to meet some of the members of the Youth Choir from church who sang with us. A seed of an idea planted itself in my mind. Perhaps my daughter might like to join the Youth Choir?

My daughter loves music and singing and drama and anything to do with performing. I asked her if she would like to join the Youth Choir on Sundays at noon, and she was very, very keen. So we all trooped off to church to support her, and to have lunch afterwards. It was a good time. Some of us went more willingly than others, some needed minimal prodding, some went only because of the hope of a promised lunch. :)

As I sat there tears filled my eyes at one point. The point where the priest asked us to pray silently. I prayed for my children. I thanked God for each of them and I asked that He would draw them close to Him and work in their lives. I felt I had to ask that because I know in my heart of hearts that something as personal as faith has to be a gift from God. It isn't something I can pass on, or force onto my children. I'm constantly plagued by the thought that because I have been unwell for all of my children's lives that I must be to blame for any shortcomings in our family, though when I think deeply about this I do feel I am being too harsh on myself.

Living with chronic illness means that it can be difficult to be consistent. I find it very hard. I always felt going to church every week was the right and perfect thing to do. I wish I could be on that pew in church with my children all scrubbed and shiny every weekend and looking like they really loved going :) I have found it so hard to keep going anywhere week in and week out. It's exhausting. It's tiring. Is it even necessary? Does God understand? Will others?

I am only too aware of my own weaknesses, and those of my children. I know what we all need to work on. I know what we all need more of, and what we need to prune from our lives. More love, more generosity, more kindness, more charity. Less selfishness, less meanness, less unkindness, less squabbling. Basically take out the negative aspects and fill your life with the positive opposites. :) It sounds so easy but it isn't really, and it's a lifetime's work.

I have finally outgrown the need to be perfect... I used to think my kids were the ultimate reflection of me, and so if I was perfect then they too would be perfect. But who judges the perfection in us, and how can our fellow man judge when they themselves struggle? As I sat in church I thought of my children and their different personalities, the different journeys each must take in life, the different career paths they might pursue, their different giftings and talents, and I realized that in actual fact, it's largely beyond me. It isn't up to me at all. They have their own lives to live and the more I try to force them into a mould that reflects me, the more likely I am to push them away, and derail them from becoming who they are meant to be. It isn't about me. It's up to them to make the most of every opportunity given to them, to decide on their futures, to explore beliefs and take ownership of their faith, and to find their path in life.

I wish that I could easily cut loose from the myriad of expectations that I perceive to be important. I expect a lot of myself, and I think I expect the same of others. When I am too tired to do much I get overwhelmed by guilt sometimes and I feel I am to blame for many things. I see failings and weaknesses and I think that if only I had been well, and more actively involved and doing so much more this particular weakness in this child, or this imperfection in myself would not exist. And so guilt eats at me, leading to self blame. Guilt and blame born out of some need to be perfect. But I push them away. I must, otherwise it would be hard to carry on, and carry on I must!

I told my dear husband how I felt and he said to me that it's not about blame, and that we can only do the best we can. I have told myself the same. Don't blame myself. Do the best I can. If it's just a tiny effort, then so be it. Do better next time. It is the heart that matters. I could sit on a pew every weekend and never be touched and never know the goodness of God if my heart was hardened. I could take my children there everyday but if God doesn't speak to them then it's a pointless exercise. And God makes all things beautiful in His time. Not mine.

I don't believe in coincidences. From the sadness of a funeral something beautiful was born. I think I met the members of the Youth Choir quite by divine appointment. The Youth Choir is exactly what my daughter needs at this point in her life to keep her faith meaningful to her. It's given us a fresh approach to something very central to my heart : functioning as a family that supports each other, and loves God.

One of the things I remembered from church yesterday was this : "When God calls us to do something He doesn't expect us to always succeed, but He does expect us never to quit." I like that. I do what I can. If I succeed, super! If not, keep going. Never give up. Certainly motherhood and chronic illness make for a dramatic ride... but I'm allowing myself to fail, I'm not expecting perfection, and I'm not giving up.

Thanks for reading

Pav