What is perfect?

What is perfect?

I have a problem that I will admit to. It's called perfectionism. Sometimes I feel that my house should be spotless, magnificently decorated with baking bread in the oven and a home-made apple pie on the window sill cooling. My girls are supposed to be permanently pressed and polite as I lovingly teach them how to do the dishes in my heels and fashionable jeans.

But I came across an entry on a blog, and even though I cannot recall exactly what it said, it made me think about this little problem of mine. Maybe I just need to change my definition of perfect.

I get caught up in the whole Utah-Valley-Stay-at-home-mom mentality that I can do it all and should do it all. There are so many women in my life who are unbelievable and to me they seem perfect. But I've been feeling a little overwhelmed with the expectations mothers place on themselves which most definitely comes from the quiet whispers of a betrayer we know as Satan. I've realized that he is sneaky and deceives us, abusing our good intentions to be outstanding influences in our families. He quietly tempts us away from them a little at a time with projects we view as wholesome and beneficial, yet it's that time that is the most precious.

It made me think about my husband and my little girls. Maybe the eternal idea of perfect isn't really perfect. Because perfect to me would be having the selflessness to leave the dishes and go on a picnic. Or put dinner on the table a little late because the kids stopped to look at a bug on an afternoon walk. My fear is that "I would but I have to..." is all my kids hear when they come calling for love and time and attention. Though my minutes are filled, I too often waste my time.

I always say that tomorrow I will do this. Or tomorrow I will start that. But, all the while my kids' lives are whipping past faster than I can comprehend. Each day brings them closer and closer to their potential and further and further away from me. Have I truly enjoyed them?

I think Satan uses "I have to's" as tools to destroy the family. I would most definitely enjoy making my girls laugh, having punch parties in the back yard, or baking cookies for Morgan's crush next door then scrubbing toilets and folding laundry. They would enjoy it more too.

So, I believe I was in need of humbling and that a few simple words in a blog set me straight in enjoying the true moments. Perhaps in the eternities I will remember the warm happy feeling of swinging in a swing with giggling girls better then if my house was perfectly spotless.