I'm Not Perfect

I’m not perfect --- and neither is anyone else.  Why is that so hard for me to accept?

The guys I hired to do my yard work this spring needed the money.  They were older guys; construction work they do has been slow lately, they said.  I wrote out a long list of things they could do for me, and they thanked me and promised good work.

When they came back the next day to begin the work, they brought along two young men --- “they don’t have jobs and can use the money; we’ll supervise them closely.”  And I have to admit, I was impressed with all of their diligence and politeness.  And they all worked hard.

And that was the problem:  they weren’t doing the work as I would do it: more casually, less seriously, with less of a mind toward perfection.  They took their time to do things well.  As they wrapped up for the day I wanted to say:  “That’s all you got done?”  I knew that were I doing the work, I’d have been much further along.  But (thankfully) I stifled my thoughts.

After they left, I took a walk around the yard.  The hedge was trimmed as I instructed --- but all the dead branches and moldy mulch and sprouting weeds were cleaned out also.  (I guess I should have done that more often in past years – or, truthfully, even once.  : - )  )  The stepping stones leading into the yard, which were sunk down and largely covered with grass, now were raised and cleaned and were, well, they were stepping stones again.  (Huh, why didn’t I think to do that?)

And as they were finishing up for the day, my new helpers said that they couldn’t plant the shrub I had purchased for outside the kitchen window, to replace the one which had died over the harsh winter.  When I asked why they couldn’t plant it, they merely pointed and said:  “She won’t let us.”  And then I saw the nesting duck behind the existing shrub.  Well ….. I guess that was a pretty good excuse.

Later on, as I began my evening prayers, I thought on these things and my initial reactions.  I had wanted to tell the workmen that their efforts were not up to my standards.  “That’s not the way I would have done the job,” I might have said.  Or worse: “I could have done it better myself,” might have been my words.

And I think they would have been hurt.

I recently wrote about how we need to love our neighbors more.  And here I was, only a day later, thinking:  “Yeh, I’ll love my neighbor more ---- if he does things my way.” 

What was it that I wrote again, about love not focusing on what we receive, but what we give?  Having tried to do their best work, my criticism of the yard workers would not have been very loving on my part.  Perhaps if I had spoken my first thoughts, they would have left thinking: “What an old crab,” and then perhaps they might have not been as diligent on their next job, or worse, passed along my crabbiness to the next person they met.  You know … love does get passed along, but so does crabbiness.

Seeking to have the world exist as I wish it to exist is just another form of self-love, narcissism.  How easy it is to forget that.  Self-love isn’t just wanting to have everyone adore oneself, it’s not just wanting to get things we want --- and “have a right to,”  self-love also insists that: “I am perfect,” and instinctively criticizes ideas and ways that are NIH --- Not Invented Here.  Many of us, perhaps justly, think we have better ideas than the next person.  But that doesn’t mean that perhaps we can be wrong, at least sometimes.  And that doesn’t mean that others’ ideas --- even ones worse than ours --- might still be good enough, and should be respected.  It is one thing to say:  “If you do that, someone will die.”  But it is quite another thing to say:  “If you do that, we’ll travel a block out of our way,” or “it won’t be spicy enough,” or “mom won’t like it.”  Not every idea that we don’t agree with is that important --- and we shouldn’t be so quick to jump on someone, as if it were.

Not instantly reacting negatively to another’s idea is not “stifling my idea,” it is humbly admitting:  “I am not perfect.”  It’s hard to be humble, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t work on it.

And as I knelt at Evening Prayer, I looked up at Jesus on the altar.  He truly was perfect.  And I meditated on what He would have said to my workmen, as I drifted into my nightly rosary.

Love come to me, that I might be love to others
-- from my meditations on the 3^rd Glorious Mystery