Give up some perfectionism this Lent
About 20 years ago, our extended family gathered for an Easter Sunday brunch in Brewster, N.Y. Still in his pajamas, my five-year-old nephew Daniel, was playing with his newly arrived cousins. My sister told him to go up to his room and get dressed.
Obedient by nature, Daniel agreed but asked me to come along. Sitting on the bed, I watched Daniel yank clothes from his closet. Anxious to return to his cousins, he quickly put them on and headed toward the door, leaving his dirty socks and pajamas in a lump on the floor.
Eyeing a hamper situated inside his closet, I suggested he simply pick up the lump and throw it in. Getting somewhat impatient with me, he scooped up his laundry and hurled it toward the hamper. It landed in close proximity, yet back on the floor.
I said, “Daniel, don’t you think you should put them inside the hamper?” Already out the door, he yelled, “Mom says all I have to do is aim in the right direction!”
Why do I remember seemingly insignificant interactions? Because they’re not insignificant. Nothing is. As author Rob Bell wrote, “In all its sacredness and fragility, there are multitude ways of reading the events of life.”
Daniel’s memory sparked an idea to make this Lenten season more meaningful. For as long as I can remember, I begin Lent with good intentions to pray more and give up my husband’s homemade wine. By week three, my commitment weakens, and I’m discouraged. I can imagine that the faithful who aim to give up chocolate, pastries, steak or TV for 40 days of Lent suffer the similar fragile moments.
What if this year, my daily observance is to “aim in the right direction,” accepting without reproach, that I will often miss the hamper? Every day after work, I visit my mom at The Beltrone, an independent senior apartment building. Some residents radiate more humor and contentment than people half their age. Their abiding joy transcends current events and the condition of their physical bodies. I marvel at these individuals.
Just before the entrance to The Beltrone, there’s a Talbots clothing store. Yesterday, a huge sign hung in the window, “EVERYTHING $9.99 OR LESS!” I decided to stop and try on a few items. Seeing myself in the fitting room mirror, I lamented my aging body. “Augh!” I thought. I couldn’t wait to get to The Beltrone for my daily dose of reassurance that, “it is what it is” and God is with us.
After dinner, my husband, Mike, and I have been watching reruns of “Cheers.” Throughout the day, I often find myself singing the theme song lyrics, “You want to be where you can see. Troubles are all the same. You want to go where people know. People are all the same.”
After sidesplitting laughter, each episode reminds me how similar and connected we are. In addition to watching more TV than I care to admit, I’ve been learning to play Mr. Rogers’ song, “It’s you I like” on my guitar. The lyrics include, “It’s you I like. It’s not the things you wear. It’s not the way you do your hair. The way you are right now. The way down deep inside you. Not the things that hide you.”
The first few times I played it, a lump formed in my throat as I imagined this is how God sees all His children. So, whether it’s through laundry, Talbots, TV or Mr. Rogers, God is speaking to us. I’ve decided to intentionally aim in the right direction and choose love. By Easter, I may have a full hamper!