The Ideal is Broken

I have been a self-proclaimed idealist for years.

There is a problem with this idealism.  I have the wrong ideal.

Case in point: I just came home from two days away from home, leaving our busy household of 11 children ages 21-1 under the management of the older children while we went to pick up Reka with Kel from the airport at JFK. When I came home, I noticed the curtains awry, the caramel popcorn not in baggies so they wouldn't dry out, the table cloth that actually wasn't a table cloth, the baby out of her jammies and the older kids all still awake. Why? 

And more importantly, is that a good thing?

At the end of this life, I believe I have—subconsciously—felt that the judgment of our lives will be a measure of all the things we perfected: our weaknesses, our situations, our knowledge. So I do this constantly, always evaluating everything that happens around me against some standard of measurement that seems to become more "exact," more "lofty," the more I see the "perfection" or "completeness" of others: in books, in movies, in the lives of those around me.

Yet, as I came home last night, even though I was joyful in my return and acknowledged the good, I just kept pointing out those little "unfinished" details either to myself or to the kids who had taken charge during my absence.

I woke up with the horror of what I had done.

Am I being over-dramatic? Really? The horror? You decide.

I barely acknowledged the good. I "lovingly" laughed aloud at the "unfinished." But this is what I really came home to:

-a home where all my children were happy and the youngers peacefully sleeping

-a home where they had painstakingly purchased supplies for and made up several kinds of our favorite Christmas treats...and left no trace of that production in our home other than finished goodies...all while:

-cleaning up kids and the home, even taking care of the monster pile of laundry I left!  They did so well,in fact, that those things I noticed were the only things that were a little different than I would have done

-setting up Reka's bed

-taking care of an incident of Xai accidentally letting a train set slide down the stairs, knocking down the            baby

-keeping peace in the home!...a family well-fed, well-rested, and happy!

And I was critical of this in the name of "perfection"? Of "idealism"?

I hurt my children by not accepting their offering. I have done this their whole lives. "You have done such a good job!  Let me show you how it could be just a little better." Always. Always.  Ever and ever.  To them.  To myself.  And even, I realize now, to God.

As I saw how cruel I was to those dear ones who this weekend served with such a sweet heart and really did SO much, my thoughts drifted to the scriptures. What Christ asks of us is brokenness, is humility. We are to become perfected in Him.

I need to find beauty behind the brokenness. I need to find a different definition of "ideal." "Ideal" is not these man-made "standards of perfection" that surround us. The ultimate ideal is to be like a child, be broken, be humble, be grateful, be loving.

So if the table cloth is actually a curtain set? Don't only try to "not pay attention to it"! Pay attention to it and see in it the perfect love, the perfect devotion that is behind it and love it. Love the brokenness, the kind hearts, the good intentions in those around us even more than their actions...and if for no other reason than this:

So we can see the beauty in the brokenness in ourselves.

Let us find, let us discover, let us define a new ideal.

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