Striving for Imperfection

We overcooked the turkey. We served old green beans. The potatoes were cold. The cranberry was too tart. The bed we put together seemed like it might collapse. I was exhausted.

But I think I did better this year. Because I kept saying, “so what.” And I was able to laugh though most of it. In years past, my anxiety would get the best of me. I started to feel a little heart racing yesterday, but I was able to calm myself down pretty quickly.

We had a great time with the Morgan grandbabies in their matching PJ’s. The game on the porch with the Baltimore Graces was such fun! And today the Charlottesville Graces arrive for another meal that may or may not be cooked well.

I really don’t enjoy cooking. My kids know that. My husband knows that. I don’t know why I keep trying except I have this vision in my head of some perfect Christmas with a perfect meal and perfect gifts. What I am realizing is that imperfect is just fine.

In fact, next year we are going with frozen lasagna or pizza. Because it’s the games, the hugs, and the laughs that matter. Memories. It’s unfortunate that some things take so long to learn. But I am still learning and that’s what counts.

Perfection doesn’t exist. And it doesn’t matter.

“You don’t pass or fail at being a person, dear.” ― Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane