The World is Not Made for Perfectionists.

            Today I had a mini melt down. I was planning on replacing the board thing you put over light switches, and I was planning on doing it much on my very own, thank you, without help from dad or mom. I had a very Rosie-the-riveter mentality, except in my head I replaced the "We" with "I".
So, I screwed the first little screw in. Easy as a Sunday morning. Then I tried the second. Much to my horror, the SWITCH was crooked. Ugh! I tried moving it but it didn't budge. Because of this stupid crooked switch, the screw wouldn't screw in right. This made me highly annoyed, and I tried forcing it in. Finally, I lifted my white flag, put down my screw driver and called to dad. He couldn't get it in either and, get this, said to just leave that screw out. LEAVE THAT SCREW OUT. That was probably the stupid-est idea I had ever heard. Hello, Tacky! Oh my. It had to look perfect, and not only that, it had to be perfect. This got me thinking. Am I a perfectionist? I took an online quiz. It said I am. I took a long look at myself. I thought I was, too. But the thing is, is that I don't want to be a perfectionist. Nope. Nope. Nope. In fact, this is what I think about perfection:

• You can never make anything perfect.
• Perfectionist = control. control. control. 
• Perfection = stress.
• The most beautiful things on this earth aren't perfect. Actually, the most beautiful things are the things that accept their imperfections, and don't make beauty their goal. And in my opinion, it's those things, or places, or people that appear imperfectly flawless. If that makes any sense. 
• However, God wants us to be perfect with him. We can't make ourselves perfect. nu-uh. Not gonna happen. But through God, we can become perfect. 
• (Psalms 18:32 It is God that gives me with strength, and makes my way perfect.)
•  So going with that, why try hard to make things, including yourself perfect? Allow God to work through you. Let Him conduct the symphony. 

So there. No more perfect. No more straight lines and ironed-crisp shirts. No more perfect goals, perfect thoughts, perfect looks, perfect style, perfect body, perfect words, perfect anything done by me.

I think I'll go work on my quilt now.