As with most of life's revelations, I got one of my favorites at a mundane moment in the peak of summer. Cruising down Mount Road, the sun beating down my back and the road letting off its heat as mirages, the saying that 'when everything's perfect, something's wrong' hit me bang in between my eyes as being so right. Since then, I've developed a respect for the many imperfections we come across in life, realizing that its the dash of' lemon', that brings out the flavor. Imperfections are like the crunch in the salad, the almonds on the ice cream, the poppy seeds on a complimentary batch of warm bread.
Perfection is magnificent. Like the balance of our universe, like the way our bodies are formed, like the seasons, like the sun, the moon, the ocean. Like the the Creator and Organizer of all these. But looking for perfection in our own lives is a guaranteed way to Unhappy Valley. Accepting imperfections (which is NOT a synonym for mediocrity) is like coloring within the lines, with an erasable crayon - takes the pressure off!
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The Mess of Being Mom
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