On feeling imperfect

     I have these friends. They are pretty amazing. By pretty amazing, I actually mean spectacularly amazing.

    One of them is pretty much the strongest woman I know.  She mothers her two autistic sons aged 16 and 22.  Her older son is non-verbal and has struggled with a variety of other health issues. Her younger son is as sweet and smart and funny as can be and loves music.  He asks a lot of questions.  When he’s in the moment with you, you could easily be in constant conversation with him.  She spends her days devoted to their health and well-being.  It is a BIG job that involves lots of self-sacrifice.  

    Another woman I know is one of the boldest people I know.  She has the power of spoken word.  She is a preacher and a leader.  A real leader.  She can take a group of people and convince them that they should do what she needs - which is really what her congregation or church needs.  She is young in her profession and has been entrusted to try a multi-million dollar experiment - she’s that good.

    There’s also this man.  He has this amazing patience and unending abyss of forgiveness.  He sees all perspectives and accepts all personalities.  He can connect with anyone and get them to like him - without being too personal and without giving away anything he doesn’t want to.  His smile is easy and he’s handsome to boot.  

    I also have this friend who has many powers.  She can cook (well) and has this amazing sparkling personality that draws in everyone.  I have never heard her say a negative thing about anyone, yet she always has plenty of conversation and makes you feel heard and wanted and important.  She never judges and can take a head of cabbage, garlic and rice and find a way to make a gourmet meal out of it.  It doesn’t even stop there.  She and her husband seem to adore each other after over a decade of marriage and they live in this perfect tiny house - a reminder of what simple living looks like.  

    This all sounds pretty great.  And I am really lucky to have all of these people in my life.  I could certainly go on and on, but that’s not really my point.

    On any given day with any one of these individuals, I could spend time with them really enjoying myself.  While I’m with them I’m on a high that accompanies good conversation and fun events, but sometimes when I walk away I feel disappointed in myself.  Why am I not that?  Why am I not better at teaching or being friendly or cooking or leading or parenting?

 

    Lately my life has been full of questioning and doubt.  What is it that I am?  Could I be better? What are my strengths?  Do I have what it takes to be good at teaching? Parenting? Friendship? Relationships?  I may think I am a certain something, but what do others think?  

    The words “comparison is the thief of joy” are attributed to Theodore Roosevelt.  When I get into this funk, I try to remember that.  By comparing myself to someone different from me and feeling envious, I am cheating myself out of the joy of the life that I have and the person I am - imperfections and all!  

And then I think about my kids.  Obviously, I think they’re perfect because they are my kids, but as humans, they are not perfect.  And yet they are just as they should be.  I would never want any of them to wish they were something else.  Sweet A is the best Sweet A there is.  Big L is the best at being Big L.  Little L is just right as Little L.  I would never want them to wish they looked different, had different personalities or were smarter, more social, etc.  I want them to be happy being themselves with whatever strengths and weaknesses they have.  What I need to learn from this mothering perch is that  I have to trust that I do have something to offer. It may be small and it may be to a small number of people and I may never know what it is, but I have to just go with it because that’s life!  

    Of course, I can always be better and I always want to try to be better, but I have to remind myself that I am enough.  It’s so hard, but it’s what I want my kids to believe about themselves and in order to teach them that, I need to believe it about myself.  What a tough task!