She stood back and looked at her dinner table and said, “perfect!” and joined her family outside.
Her friend came along and thought, “that would be perfect if only she had used wood chargers… and different stemware” she shook her head and kept walking.
Her sister walked by and started to refold all the dinner napkins and said “ahh, now it’s perfect!” and joined the others outside.
So when was the table “perfect?” Which version of the table was actually perfect?
We hear and read all the time that “there’s no such thing as perfect” but I wonder if it falls on deaf ears. How can we achieve something that doesn’t exist? Something for which everyone has their own definition?
What if instead we decided that above “perfection” (whatever that is) we instead sought to make our homes, happy places, where our families felt safe, loved and even inspired.
Where it’s obvious that people actually live there instead of a never ending quest to keep up a Pinterest perfect appearance.
What if we embraced the crumbs on the counter and the smudges on the fridge and stopped apologizing “for our mess” or even worse never inviting anyone over because of it?
Hmmmm..
I’m talking to myself, too. :-)
Our homes don’t have to be perfect to be happy. In fact, it usually only takes- letting go of an unrealistic standard- to feel the slight shift towards a happy home.
Life is short and time is fleeting. Believe me.
I’m not advocating for living in a mess but I am saying that its very likely that your “mess” is no bigger or much different from everyone else’s.
Either we can spend our days chasing a fantasy of a perfect home or we can spend our time.. listening.. holding.. and loving.
It’s our choice.
Blessings on your home,
Catrina
