Which is funny, because it didn't really have any potential to be perfect. But looking back, it was just that. And some days, you know they are going to be special days... whether it be something really fun planned with family or friends or a special occasion. Today was a mess of a day. Snowed in, plans ruined, husband away for work and a whole-lotta-craziness, all of course unplanned.
And then something really special happened... I had a revelation. And it started like this...
I am kind of a sucker for sentiment (that is an understatement...) and since I LOVED my childhood... I often want to recreate moments I had as a little girl, for my own children. I remember making gingerbread houses with my mama. And this December, I was excited to start this new tradition with Clay. And with a snow storm looming, I just happened to slip a gingerbread house kit into the shopping cart and chalk it up as the "just-in-case-we get-snowed-in" activity. Snow day happened... and I was excited to have a Plan B. So I set out all the different dishes each brimming with Christmas colored candy just waiting to be a part of this glorious gingerbread house. I showed Clay how to put the icing on the roof, and then... it happened.
Apparently, we had different ideas of what the house should look like. And the battle within my conscious began. One side of my brain reaching out my hands while the inner voice was yelling at me, "He's not doing it right. He's being messy. Help him! Save the house!" The other side snatching my hands back in, "Let him be. It will be just fine because he is having fun. The house will look great because he is making it." And then after two icing dots and two gumdrops (randomly placed I might add), Clay turns to me and says, "I'm done."
Well shamefully, the naughty conscious won today because I said, "No, no... we have lots more to do." And I took that icing bag and iced the whole dang house by myself and he added lots more candy. And so for today, it was a compromise of his 3-year-old-ness and my perfectionism. Admittedly... I needed to just let him be but I saw more fun to be had... and more fun happened. And we were both happy with the end result until he looked at the box the kit came in and looked at our gingerbread house and a sad look crossed his face and he says, "But ours doesn't look like the one on the box."
No son... it doesn't. But, ours is perfect. And I realized... it is perfect because we love it just the way it is.
This word perfect... it has me thinking today. I used to look at this word as rigid, someone else's standards, unachievable and at a high cost. It was negative. It was someone bragging. It was unrealistic.
In this last year... I have learned so much about perspective and looking at life differently. When I found out about Lilah's dwarfism diagnosis, society was telling me that she was imperfect. That her genetic condition was undesirable. That she would be physically different and there would be a stigma attached to that. And then when I met her... all I could think of was how perfect she was. She wasn't broken or anything less than. Nothing about her was undesirable to me and her differences were what made her unique. That's when this word changed for me. It no longer meant someone else setting the standards, it became positive and attainable. Perfect is what you make it out to be. Perfect is when everything feels just right. Perfect is what you create.
"Every good and perfect gift is from above" James 1:17
And so, we carried on our perfect-mess-of-a-wonderful-unplanned-day of playing in the snow, visiting with great friends & neighbors and of course... lots of snuggling. It really was... perfect.