There's No Such Thing As Perfect This Side of Heaven

I just love opening up a brand spanking new notebook with blank white pages just waiting to be written in. That’s how I feel on New Year’s Day. For about a millisecond, my whole year is spread out before me, and I haven’t made any mistakes yet.

I determine that I will do better. I will save money, lose weight, exercise, clean my room, say nice things, be helpful, and pray a lot. But then I get out of bed, and it all goes downhill from there! January 1, 2015 wasn’t any different. I got to reading and forgot that I’d started cooking an omelet. Let’s just say it was a bit crunchy. Then I said something irritating to my husband … (and that was all before 8:00 am). The only exercise I got was walking back and forth to the refrigerator. I don’t think I really helped anyone (though I did fold Don’s laundry). All in all, it was a pretty poor effort on the perfection scale.

It got me thinking about a little accident that happened to my family room carpet a couple months ago. I’d finally gotten the new carpet I desperately wanted after many years of waiting. It is a light beige - beautiful and soft and simply perfect. “Let’s always take our shoes off,” I announced in my most stern voice. “No eating or drinking in the family room either.” With these rules enforced, the carpet was successfully staying beautiful …

WAS is the operative word. One evening in November, I came home and learned that there had been an little incident … apparently my daughter was doing homework at the kitchen counter (art homework) and she accidentally spilled an entire bottle of black ink. Of course, she felt absolutely horrible. She tried and tried and tried to get the stain out. In a rare moment of motherly love, I actually did tell her that I love her more than the carpet, but somehow, my mercy just made her feel worse.

When I think about the stain, I see my own imperfections – all my sins – and how I basically spill black ink over my day EVERY stinking day, no matter how hard I try to take my shoes off and be “perfect.” I just can’t! And what’s worse, I can’t remove the sin - no matter how much I scrub. Only Jesus can. His blood, his death on the cross, is the only stain remover that covers me. I’m so, so very grateful for that!

Regarding my carpet, somehow my daughter was able to get most of the stain out. She bought some solvent and worked on her hands knees for a week, then shampooed. I’m happy for her that it all worked out. As for my life, not so much. It’s burned omelets and stupid things I say and too much chocolate … BUT I can still try.

Tomorrow is another day. Meanwhile, get out of the way, I’m making a beeline for the refrigerator!