Can you picture it? The perfect Hallmark Christmas? Fire blazing, carols playing, lovers kissing. There are cookies being made, lights strung, cider brewing. The mood is cozy. The air is cold, but not too cold. We used to call it a Norman Rockwell scene but maybe the younger folk wouldn’t know who that is so now we talk about the perfect scene as being the kind in a Hallmark movie (or a card).

Recently, someone referred to my home as being the perfect backdrop for a Hallmark movie. No! Not mine. I mean thank you and all, but seriously, it’s not. But, I get it. It looked perfect – at least for a couple of hours.  It’s just that that isn’t real life. It’s the thing we create to keep our reputation intact and help others feel welcomed. Truth be told, I love doing it. I love having all the mess put away and creating beautiful scenes. I think it puts a little magic in the world and I always appreciate it when others do it for me. However, I don’t remember that they hid their mail stacks (like I did). I assume they don’t have kitchen counter clutter (like I do). And I compare myself against them.

No one but my husband (and maybe a couple of my kids in earshot) know it, but recently (Saturday), I cried to my husband that I never feel good enough, smart enough, Christian enough when compared against his family. And let me tell you, those thoughts do not come from them – they are all mine and they’re rooted in my own insecurities. I was fighting the perfectionism demon that I preach about all the time. And I was losing – because I know the truth.

In case you’re comparing your real life to my Instagram (like I do with people I think are near perfect), I have some things to share with you.

One of the little girls here was trying feverishly to get down and only perked up when offered the bribe of some t.v. time. 

I fought sugar woes all weekend and made myself sick Saturday night eating things I don't normally eat (and way too much of it). This is my get-back-to-healthy meal. And it wasn't as easy as it looks. I still ate "off-plan" things Sunday even though I felt so bad Saturday.

These little gingerbread houses were a pain in the butt to build ahead of time. I was hard-headed about it because I wanted the Hallmark kind of Christmas party. (It was worth it, though. Look at those smiles!)

This awesome HOCHO bar with Starbucks looks impressive. However, STBX mix requires milk not water. Beware! We had to make an extra trip to buy milk, remember to heat milk and still failed to keep it stocked during the party. 

My daughter and I had our own little Hallmark moment Sunday assembling some more Gingerbread houses. The guys didn't want to join in (football). Mine kept collapsing. I almost had to wash my mouth out with soap. 

This morning I hid the snack mix in the basket with the lid. The lid had been covering our junk that's normally spread on the counter.

 This table has been askew since the party and I don't really care. I only have to be "perfect" when others are looking.

This window - the same one I took pictures through at the party (when the sun was in a different position) - is filthy. So is the one beside it. Odds are it will stay that way.

And guess what. I forgot to put out the cider!

The Perfection of Imperfection

Even as I write the title, I am moved by truth. Imperfection is actually perfect. It blows me away to fully consider this. I am, by far, the most imperfect person I know. I can be selfish, rude,  self-serving, and shallow - and that's the tip of the iceberg. I eat when I'm anxious, sad, happy, and mad. I laugh at inappropriate things and can cry at the drop of a hat. I know I'm not supposed to care what you think about me, but I do. I am guilty of things that would very likely surprise you. And this is where I am today - imperfect and in that is it's own perfection.

Oh, I know how it sounds to the most religious of you. Glorifying in my sin. Celebrating things that are wrong. But, oh my dear friend, that's not how it is at all. My sin breaks my heart. I would that I was different - so very often. I grow. I learn. And by the grace of God, I change. I like to think I improve - and I believe I do. I simply do not know how to be where I am except by where I've been. Those imperfections? Those flaws are part of the very reason I know Jesus and are surely evidence that I needed a savior. I could not, cannot overcome my weaknesses on my own. Frankly, I'm just too imperfect for that.

So many things are coming together in my head this morning ... realizing I feel hurt by someone taking me off of their friend list, absorbing a mind-blowing Scripture passage, facing some negative consequences of positive action (reference the unfriending part), realizing not everyone will like me or agree with me... and reckoning with that. It's o.k. It really is. You don't have to like me. You don't have to agree with me. I'm not here to please you. And that means you're not here to please me - or anyone else for that matter.

In a Perfect World 
by Stephanie Redmond, 2018

In a perfect world

We’d all be perfect.

There’d be no sin, no guilt, no shame.

There’d be no wrong and

You couldn’t be disappointed by me

Or me by you.

In a perfect world

You wouldn’t talk behind my back

Nor I behind yours.

Love would cover all

And there’d be no need

For “You hurt me”,

“I was wrong” and

“Please forgive me”.

In a perfect world

Sheep wouldn’t stray and

Shepherds would care for the one who did.

There’d be no tears, divorce, or even death.

We would love richly, worship freely, and

Live happily -

Ever after.

In a perfect world

I suppose we’d have no need for God,

Would never seek His face or

Know the power of His grace.

Thank God this world is not perfect.