Letting go of Miss Perfect

Perhaps you've met her?

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Hello my friends,

In this week’s new YouTube video, we’re talking about letting go of Miss Perfect. Perhaps you’ve met her?

Let me tell you a story. I am currently reading through the murder-mystery The Nine Tailors by Dorothy Sayers. In the first few chapters of the books, I struggled deeply to understand the nuanced vocabulary of early-twentieth-century Britain. The book is filled with jargon unfamiliar to me and I began to thoroughly dread reading through the pages as it rambled on with funky words and phrasing. Not one to give up, I took my concern to Stuart, who has read and taught on this book for years in various classes. He encouraged me to read through the pages quickly, skimming over words and phrases unfamiliar to me, and at a pace fast enough to take in the plot and important character points without getting slogged down in trying to understand the minute details of things I couldn’t quite understand. So I attempted just that and soon began to find myself drawn into the story, not needing all the nuanced details (that I’m sure Miss Sayers put much time into, sorry about that), but was not essential to understanding the engaging plot and twists of the story. Turns out, Miss Perfect isn’t always the best reading companion (she can be a bit of an overachiever, ya know.)

That same week, my Italian tutor and I had a very similar conversation. “Shaye, you know what I’m saying, but you’re getting held up by what you don’t understand. Listen to me. Find the verb, find the preposition, cling to what you know.” He told me to forget the forest around me and focus on the single tree at hand. He continued, “You have to stop trying to understand it all and trying to translate each word. Move quickly. Respond with instinct. Focus on the most important pieces.”

Later that same week (perhaps I’m a bit bull-headed?), for the first time in years, our family calendar was so full I couldn’t actually complete my normal cleaning schedule (living room on Mondays, bedrooms on Tuesdays, dining room and office on Wednesdays, etc.). There simple wasn’t space enough for me to do what I like to do and clean and keep the home in a particular way. Miss Perfect can also be a dreadful emotional companion in such circumstances, allowing thoughts of failure to creep in and get comfortable.

It’s a season of dying to my idols and dialing back, to be blunt, what I know I’m capable of.

When my babies were little, I remember a particularly difficult day when I had been home changing diapers, preparing snacks, mopping floors, and reading board books to the littles. Stuart came home from work and I collapsed in tears. “I’m capable of adult conversation. I’m smart. I can think deep thoughts and process hard problems. I’m capable of so much more than potty training.” To become a mother is die to a piece of yourself, especially in those early years, when the physical, emotional, and spiritual demands are so high. It can feel a bit regressive to set aside those adult thoughts, adult problems, adult desires, and adult skills to teach colors and change sheets. But I believe this is blessed work - work that has eternal value in the souls of those whom I’ve been charged with carrying for.

It became essential for me to die to those adult pieces, in a way, so that I could meet my children where their needs were at that particular time. That was were I needed to be.

Now, that looks a bit different. The children’s needs revolve less around diaper changing (thank the Lord!) and more around rigorous home-education, character development, peers, and skill development. All of these needs require Miss Perfect to keep-her-desires-in-check and meet her children where they need her in this season. This certainly isn’t exclusive to being a mother, either. Plenty of my own peers have been charged with seasons of life that pull their demands from “normal” to “sacrifice”, be it for children, for work, for community, for parents, etc.

This point is this: I know what I am capable of: being organized, having deep thoughts, tackling complex problems that don’t revolve around the home, cleaning my house well, staying on top of laundry, preparing beautiful dishes, growing our food, and ultimately creating beautiful things. These are all good desires.

But it’s time to die, once again, to Miss Perfect who can do all these things - in the right season. This is not her time to shine.

Instead, this is a season of focusing on the main things and keeping the ship on course. That means I don’t get to wash my windows or mop my floors as often as I’d like. It means that my dining room table is more often than not covered with school books and pencils. It means that as soon as I prepare food, it’s quickly devoured. It means that there’s a lot of driving to and from town for gatherings and that our priorities of work often have to surpass the quiet desires I have at home. This is a season of meeting needs.

Lest it all sound a bit stodgy, it’s a good thing she’s being knocked off her pedestal. Miss Perfect is capable, but frankly, weak. I often remind myself of Proverbs 14:4:

“Where no oxen are, the trough is clean; but increase comes by the strength of an ox.”

While I’m not perfect, I am growing in strength - and even better - in love for those around me who make my life hard, complicated, overwhelming, and messy.

I’d rather be strong than clean anyway.

Cheers,

Shaye