#BlogElul – End
I wish there was one, sometimes. I, being somewhat of a perfectionist, would really like to finish something – anything, actually. It frustrates me that most of the things I do are never finished. The tests are never done being marked because the kids write more tests. The lessons are never done being prepped because then I teach new lessons. The dishes are never ALL washed, and the room is never entirely tidy and…
Well, it’s hard to just not be finished. I love that feeling of staring at a pile of work and saying, “done with that!” It never happens, though. I am actually never done. I try to fake it, of course, and finish sub-tasks and partial tasks and half-tasks and whatever it is that needs to be done, but the truth of the matter is that I simply am not finished and not likely to be. So, what’s to be done about that? Well, nothing, really.
It’s one of those discomforts, like change and paperwork, that God thinks is good for me, that I am supposed to learn from. So, how do I live with this discomfort? My personal preference is to whine. No, seriously, if the kids can do it, why can’t I? I don’t WANNA! Can’t I do it later? Can’t someone else do it? I’m too busy with something else. It’s cathartic, and I enjoy it, but it sounds dreadful, I’m sure.
Maybe I can just work on acceptance today. If I’m never going to be done, I’m never going to be done. If there’s always more to do – in fact, if there’s always so much to do that my to-do list never gets shorter, only longer – then that’s how it is. I get to just live with that. Possibly, I can even learn to live with it cheerfully, instead of fussing about every step in my way. I am not perfect. I will never be perfect. The only way I can be finished is to be dead.
I can enjoy it, though. If I see the pattern, if I see the cycle of tests being written and marked, and clothes being worn and washed and worn and washed again, then I can hold that pattern as a perfect thing. That way, having a time when things aren’t completed is a necessary piece of the pattern and part of completeness.
The more joy I can find in not being finished, the less discomfort it brings. As I look forward to the next part of each cycle, whether that is encountering a sink full of dishes, or washing the last one just as someone puts in the next, that task becomes perfect. This year, may I be finished with complaining and whining about how much I have to do. May I just enjoy being unfinished and overwhelmed with tasks. They’re fun, positive tasks, most of them! That will need to be good enough.