FAY ROWE

I've just been working on my revised version of What's In A Name.  

I took the book to Write!Canada, the annual conference of The Word Guild, to show to a couple of editors in order to get their perspective on substantive editing. One suggested my introduction should be my first chapter. The other one liked it just the way it was and warned me about the trap of perfectionism.

It seemed everyone harped on it--well, maybe mentioned it in passing. Workshop leaders, continuing class leaders, and the plenary speaker all indicated that the pursuit of perfection can become debilitating. Not that we shouldn't be diligent to do our very best and use every means to be excellent. (I appreciated Joel Freeman saying that time spent trying new things is never lost time). But perfectionism can shut you down, if you let it, because nothing will ever be good enough if it is not perfect.

And I sit here now and wonder why I consider perfection a worthy goal. Why many of us do.

Is it because our spirits know we came from perfection and want to return to it?

But I remember what came to me while workshop leader Ann Voskamp was reading a blog post she had written about her son bringing her a gift of a carved wooden spoon. She caressed it in her hands as she read.

"Is it perfect?" he had asked, "Will I make another one?"

I won't do justice to her words, so I won't try. But at one point, after telling him it was perfect and she wanted him to fill up the house with them, she held his small face in her hands and said, "You are perfect!"

As she spoke I thought about how often we're told that, because of Jesus' sacrifice, we're perfect in God's eyes. And I thought about how often I think God must not see too well if he thinks I'm perfect. The truth is, even if I'm forgiven and have the gift of righteousness, I'm not perfect. If I can see it, surely God can!

But then I saw something wonderful!

Ann's little boy is not perfect in her eyes. He perfect in her heart!

My daughter is not perfect in my eyes. She's too much like her momma and daddy to be perfect.  But she's perfect in our hearts. Completely and always.

I get it now.

My Father has eyes that see, but I'm perfect in my Father's heart.

Surely, when I've done my very best, and my offering, the work of my hands, comes from my heart then it, too, is perfect in his heart.

And that's enough.