The Gifts of Imperfection

That's the title of the book I've just started reading by Brene Brown, which has come at the perfect time (no pun intended). Lately, I have been very aware of my imperfections - my shortcomings at work, my failures as a friend, my inability to keep my house clean.

I'm not usually a self-critical person, but I've been noticing even stupid things like my hair growing out and the zit on my forehead, and I feel this frustration building up inside of me - of not being who I want to be, of not measuring up; in short, not being perfect.

It's funny, because I don't expect anyone else in my life to be perfect - not my friends, not my family, not the people I work with - because I know that we as human beings are not perfect; that's part of the human condition. However, I inexplicably seem to hold myself up to a different standard - an impossibly high one.

Even though I, too, am merely human, I expect myself to never mess up, to never make mistakes, to be successful in every part of my life - to immerse myself in my work and not leave the office until everything is done and done right; to be present with my friends, checking in regularly, listening and being supportive through all of life's joys and sorrows; to keep up with my housecleaning, laundry and cooking so that my home is a neat and hospitable place.

These seem like pretty basic "life" things to be able to do, so on the face of it it does not seem like an impossible standard. Which is why I feel like a failure when there are not enough hours in the work-day to complete everything on my to-do list; when weeks go by without catching up with friends who are really important to me; when my dishes pile up, I'm scrounging around for clean clothes and can't figure out what to cook for dinner. What should be simple and easy at times feels impossibly hard to accomplish...and I wonder if I will ever "succeed" at this thing called life. 

It's hard for me to accept that I'm not perfect - that it's not a matter of trying harder, being more organized, pushing through. I'm not perfect, and it's ok. I am human, and I will make mistakes; I will fall short, I will not be "enough". Yet, I will not be defined by my successes or my failures.

I think there's this myth that we can "have it all" - excel in our career, have a robust social life, stay on top of everything at home - and perhaps some people can. But there are trade-offs - if I pour more time and energy into one area of my life, the other areas are going to suffer.

I can always tell when it's been an intense week at work, because I come home with little energy for seeing people, and instead hibernate - watching Netflix before passing out, after eating what may or may not be a nutritious dinner. My dishes pile up and the laundry goes unfolded.

Now don't get me wrong, I love what I do and I am so grateful to have found a job that aligns so well with my passions and allows me to use my skills towards the greater good. There's no place I'd rather be, and nothing else I'd rather be doing. But when those intense weeks become the norm, I realize that there is a cost.

I was talking about this with a friend of mine recently, saying that if I had a significant other or even a roommate, I would probably not work as much as I do - because that person would feel the impact. But since it's just me, I said that by working late I'm not giving up anything on the other end. But she reminded me that I am - that I'm giving up my "me" time, my ability to spend time with friends and to care for my home and myself.

So part of my imperfection is that my life has been lopsided - and I haven't realized what it's been costing me. This realization comes at a good time, though, just as work will be returning to a more normal pace. I won't have the same pressures that have been present the past number of months, and I am looking forward to hitting the "reset" button to find a better balance.

I'm looking forward to intentionally spending more time with friends, and nurturing the relationships with those closest to me. The people who ground me, who support me, who challenge me, who love me and who make me laugh - they are my life-blood, and it's no wonder I've felt anemic without them.

I'm looking forward to taking more time to care for my home - because I feel so much better when my space is clean and organized, and can be a welcoming place for others. I can't wait to bring some order to the chaos, and get back into better rhythms for keeping it that way.

The beauty of this is that it's not a zero-sum game - all of these different pieces of my life are interconnected, so if I spend more time with friends I will feel more inspired at work - and when I am inspired at work I will have more energy to spend time with friends (or clean my house)! Each should flow into one another, not sap energy from the rest.

So this is my intent - yet I don't want to set up, again, impossible standards for myself and then beat myself up when I fall short. So I will try to hold these intentions with open hands - to seek them without striving too hard. I will try to see each step forward as a gift - and each step back as a reminder of my own, imperfect humanity.

Life Together

Perhaps it's the nip in the air, the sudden need for extra layers or the hot beverage in hand - but the brisk entry of fall this week has brought me back to this time two years ago, when I first felt the nudge to visit New Hope. I remember it being a chilly evening in October, but immediately feeling warmed and welcomed by the people I found there. Not one to make snap decisions, I nonetheless found myself being pulled quickly and completely into this community - and whole-heartedly embracing the life together that New Hope practices.

I remember that first Sunday feeling like, finally, I was being filled - that this was a place where God was present, and was pouring into me. As I deepened my relationships there, more and more I felt that I was being poured into by the people - the Body of Christ. And what is the difference, really? God works in and through God's people, the Church, and I have felt that in very real ways. These are people who know me deeply; who encourage and cheer me on when I am taking new steps; who support and pray for me when I'm having a rough time; who welcome me to their dinner tables and into their families; who laugh with me, cry with me, drink with me...who share life with me in all of the ups and downs. I am so grateful to be part of this life together at New Hope.

And I am grateful to experience community with people in different parts of my life. My Derry Street "crew" - although not all living on Derry Street anymore - makes me laugh more than anyone else in the world, and are like family to me - loving me, quirks and all. My closest friend, who I can text when I'm having a bad day and who will take a lunch break to let me vent - and make me feel better by the end of it. My longtime roommate who I don't see as often anymore, but with whom I can still pick up right where we left off. My boss and co-workers who keep me sane, and who I could not get through the hard days at work without. My community partners who have also become friends, as we share our passions and ideas and work to eliminate racism together.

I am grateful for all of you - for the ways that you hold me up when I am falling, and cheer me on when I am striving. My people, my community is what makes my life full and meaningful. And really, isn't that what God desires for us? Isn't that what communion symbolizes? Jesus did not break the bread and pour the cup as a ritual divorced from the people around him - he shared this practice at a dinner table with those closest to him. This act symbolized how in his life, and soon in his death, he continually poured himself out for them; for us. And we are to do the same for one another. We practice communion not merely by replicating this ritual, but by practicing life together.

"And this is communion: Here, with friends, the food feeds our bodies - and the people who break the bread and share life, who pour the cup and pray with us, feed our spirits." Amen.

Photo courtesy of Jennifer Schmidt @beautyandbedlam.