My oldest has a stuffed animal cat. The stuff animal once was mine when I was a kid. However, it wasn\’t a stuffed animal that I carried around with me, had it in my bed, and it probably most likely sat in a bin.
Years ago I had gone through a bunch of items at my folks house. Some stuff got donated, some got packed back up for later, and some stuff my mom decided to have out for grand-kids to use when they visited.
T had recently turned 2 when we were visiting my folks for the weekend and he found the stuffed animals at the lake house. Up until that point, there were few stuffed animals that he kept close by. And even less that went wherever he went. He had a yellow puppy with polka dots and a music bear. A very loved bear lovey as well (one of those small blanket type ones with a head on it, silky on one side, fuzzy on the other).
We had a year full of change when T was 2. Our family was growing, a brother to come in October that year and we moved (in which we had to get the old house ready and look for a new one). One of our trips to the lake he found a couple of stuffed animal cats that he really took to. So he asked if he could borrow them. The answer, of course, was sure.
5 years later he still has both, as well has added more to the bunch. But there is one particular cat that became his well loved stuffie. It went everywhere with him, he played with it inside and outside, it is in his bed every night. Yup, he is 7 1/2 now, but that cat (and bear lovey) still go with him everywhere, can still be found in his bed, and occasionally it goes outside to ride in one of the toy trucks.
What was once a white fluffy cat, bright pink nose and ears, bright pink paw lines and mouth is now a weathered more gray, loosing it\’s fur, no longer bright pink, threads for the nose and claws coming out. Her name is Fishingpole.
I tell you this because here is where we get to the perfectly imperfect part. A year ago we tried to give it a new coat and that failed. It seemed to take away the essence of Fishingpole. But now Tim uses it as a coat for her for when it is cold or a vest just for fun.
He has been asking me to please fix her nose. My response has been, all too often, another day or maybe later. He would even leave her with me at nap time and bedtime in hopes I would fix her nose. We even took the supplies with on a recent trip to the lake, yet never fixed her nose.
Finally the other day I sat down to get it done. Part of the reason for the delay was I wasn\’t quite sure how to go about fixing it. Half the nose was gone. Do I try to pull out what thread was left? Do I leave it and try to cover it? Do I keep the same shape?
You see, my own insecurities about how to do it left me with not wanting to get it done. So it keep getting pushed off.
Tim had picked out a beautiful blue color because it matched her eyes. I am not much of a sewer, but I figured the least I could was give Fishingpole back a nose…right?
So I spent an evening after he went to bed working on it. All the while I kept analyzing it and criticizing my work. When I finally got the nose done I looked at it. Slightly disappointed because it didn\’t look as good as it once had, uncertain about the blue color, and was just hoping that it was good enough that he would like it.
While I noticed the imperfections in the sewing, he noticed how it matched her eyes. While I noticed the shape wasn\’t quite right, he was beaming that she had her nose back. While I thought it was imperfect, he thought it was perfect and just right.
I left my own insecurities about fixing it, my own lack of confidence in my skills, my own criticisms of it get in the way. To a 7 1/2 year old who loves his stuffie, she had a nose, it was the color he wanted, and it was perfect.
His face lit up the moment he saw her. He was so excited, so appreciative.
In my mind it was imperfect, to him it was perfect.
All to often we try to have things in such a way that they have to be perfect. It could be anything from the things around us, to the way we dress, talk, lead our lives.
Instead of being in the moment or looking at things in a way that are just enough, we strive for perfection. And that is what is expected out of our kids as well. When we fail to meet that expectation we take it hard. When they fail to meet that expectation (that we put on them), we take it as a hit against our parenting abilities.
But you know what, nothing is perfect…not one of us is perfect either. Sure, there are moments where all the pieces fall just right and it is perfect for just that moment. But to strive for perfection, to expect those around us to is only setting us for disappointment and failure.
We can\’t be perfect by our very nature. There is only one true person who was and is perfect, Jesus. God doesn\’t expect us to be perfect. He expects us to live a full life using the gifts and talents He has given us to fulfill His purpose for us. He doesn\’t want perfect, he wants you, just the way you are, just the way he made you.
I imagine that God\’s face looks the way Tim\’s did the day I fixed Fishingpole. It lights up and beams when we let ourselves be authentic, be real, be how we were made to be…perfectly imperfect, but loved and full of grace.
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