I simply desired a smooth, beautiful painted door, but the first brush stroke left me in tears. I stared at the door, and the streaks in the paint screamed imperfection at me. It seemed like a silly reason to shed tears, especially when it was the backside of a closet door.
Imperfection is nothing new for me during the last several months. At first, it was fun adding to the 644 square foot space to make it fit our family’s needs. However, now in the middle of it all, the fun took a back burner. Cabinets without doors, rooms without trim or light fixtures installed, sheetrock not finished properly – these and so much more put my anxiety, perfectionism, and OCD traits into a tailspin.
For the past several months, I struggled to see the construction as a journey. I only pictured and desired the end result of a magazine-worthy home. I quickly learned focusing solely on the end desire does not allow for the individual steps in the journey. It sets up room for discouragement and harsh feelings when the end is not in sight or hiccups cause a flaw in the plan.
I learned a hard lesson on how small steps build the big picture. It seems simple enough, but when perfectionism focuses on every single detail being, well, perfect, the end seems far out of reach or impossible.
This thinking spills over into my faith as well. Somewhere along the way, I created a picture of what I thought the perfect relationship with Christ would look like. All I know is my reality doesn’t match up with the expectations I imposed. Constantly feeling as though I fail in the relationship tends to leave me stuck wanting so much more but not able to attain it.
During the construction of my home, God began construction in my heart. He whispers, “One small step at a time. Perfect isn’t needed; just make progress.”
Progress, not perfection.
My home, with all of the imperfections, serves as a constant reminder for me to simply focus on small steps. Completing small steps builds the big picture.
After my pity party and a Facebook post asking if anyone had a paint gun I could borrow to paint the door, I picked up the brush and made myself finish the job, one streaky stroke at a time until I painted the entire door. To my utter surprise, the brush strokes worked themselves out to a smooth finish. Dare I say the completed door looks almost perfect.
I have a feeling my faith and relationship with Christ will end the same way. All the imperfections will work themselves out in the end. I pray I hear, “Well done, my good and faithful child.”
Until then, I will journey with Christ one step at a time and build a life of beautiful faith. There will be hiccups, imperfections, and even tears along the way, but with His grace and mercy, I will pick up the paintbrush and continue until the end.
