Because Things Can Always Be Better, Right?

Last night I saw a commercial for a car or a computer or something. It featured high tech products that were being made even fancier. They were faster, bigger, smaller, sleeker, better.

At the end of the commercial, in big bold letters, it said "because things can always be better."

I know this phrase appeared so prominently because, well, maybe people think that is true.

But I don't.

Some things can always be better. Wine/cheese/the like. My mom says meatloaf is better the next day.

But I think we're stuck on this hamster wheel where we're constantly looking for the next best thing, constantly thinking about how to get more.

This kind of thinking does nothing but lead us into discontentment with what we have and a lust for what we don't. For the next and then the next and then the next...

So I for one am not going to get sucked into their message that "things can always be better." My phone is just fine. So is my computer and car. My house is great and so is my closet.

You know what can always be better, where I need to put my focus? On my marriage, to continue to be the best helpmate I can. My friendship with Jesus. My parenting skills and my patience as a new mom. And not so much that these things can be better, but that they can grow and change and become even more beautiful.

My stuff, well, my stuff doesn't matter much anymore when you think of all those things.

Will you join me?

be thankful print from Olive and Birch

The Grip of Perfection

I say "perfect" constantly. It's my affirming word. 

- When the lady at the DMV tells me my license will come in the mail in 1-2 weeks, I say "perfect."

- When I'm asked to wait over there for the doctor, I say "perfect."

- When my hubby tells me the plan for the day, which includes going to Lowes for the 900th time this month, I say "perfect."

But lately I've found myself using the word "perfect" in a different way. In a way that has me feeling stressed and frustrated. In a way that has me confused. In a way that has me feeling like I don't measure up or that I'm already behind.

In a way that has to do with the baby.

It's no secret that new moms want things to be perfect for the arrival of their child. And I don't believe that's a bad thing either. Clothes washed and put away. Nursery decorated. Toys purchased. Diapers ready.

But I'm finding that this desire to have everything perfect is just leading me to tears. It's crippling really. Longing for things to be perfect and yet finding that I don't have the courage to do anything for fear that it won't be just right.

A failed nursery project led me to hysterics. I just about had a panic attack over cloth diapers.

Everything has to be perfect, or does it?

Oh how did I let this happen?

And more importantly how do I begin to get out of its grip?

"But whoever keeps his word, in him truly the love of God is perfected. By this we may now that we are in him." 1 John 2:5

Yes, I am made perfect in Christ, but that does not leave me without blemish or sin.

And that does mean I should feel guilty if I haven't read my breast-feeding book cover-to-cover either.

His love is perfected in me. The love I have for my son is perfected. But it releases me from the grip of perfection. In this perfected love, I have all that I need to provide for my baby boy.

"You then, my child, be strengthened by grace that is in Christ Jesus." 2 Timothy 2:1

photo credit

Perspective

Today I want to share a story of perspective.

Working title:  "The day Kyle developed a fear of ladders."

Kyle's family came in this weekend to help with more home improvement projects. His mom landscaped while Kyle and his dad put a new roof on the house while I, umm, cheered them on.

Sunday morning I was still waking up when I heard a scream on the deck. I ran to the door and saw my husband lying flat on his back on top of the ladder.

As Kyle was making the transition from the ladder to the roof, the ladder slipped on the still-dewy deck. As the ladder slid, Kyle's legs slipped through the rungs and he fell backwards, him on the ladder, the ladder on his ankles.

Looking back, I didn't really react the way I thought I would. I didn't run to him. I didn't start crying. Since I didn't see it happen, I was still in a state of confusion as to what was happening.

I very much take my cues from Kyle when it comes to worry and panic. He tends to be more rational and level-headed than I am. I figure if he's not worried then I guess I probably shouldn't either. I think this was what I was trying to do when I saw him not moving on the deck -- just trying to stay calm so he wouldn't worry.

I heard him say "I'm ok" and then slowly start to move his head and his legs and arms. He laid there a while before being able to stand. Slowly throughout the day the bruises started to appear, with a huge and horrible bruise in the perfect shape of a ladder rung on his lower back.

Even though he's perfectly fine and escaped with just a few scrapes, I still find myself thinking about the "what if's." I could have lost him.

For me, it's a story of perspective. Of how quickly things can and do change.

It's a story that helps me understand just how deep my love for my husband runs.

It's a story of just how fragile we are, our relationships are, our lives are.

And it's a story of how trusting in the Lord is all we can do in this life. His will reigns. His plans are supreme. Nothing is outside of this.

Gosh, I'm getting goosebumps just reliving it again.

Have you ever had one of these stories? Those times when things are thrown into perspective in such big and powerful ways?