The Illusion of Perfection

Ever since I was a little girl, I have loved looking at model homes. Fresh paint.  New lawns. Carefully placed decor.  

A few weeks ago, we went to look at model homes in our area.  Having always lived in a one-story home, my kids enjoyed going up and down the stairs, checking out the kids’ bedrooms, and seeing what was in the pantry.

My husband and I marveled at the walk-in closets, luxurious baths, and beautiful molding.  Everything was perfect.  

Yet, even though those houses and condos had pictures of families, working televisions, and decorations, those homes were an illusion of perfection. 

As much as I loved the designer decor, I realized how impractical most of the decorations and furniture was for a family, especially one with small children.

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For instance, the toddler bed frame was about four feet of the ground without any sort of guard rail.  It was so tall and narrow, I’m pretty sure my three-old-old would fall off that bed multiple times during the night. I saw fragile vases hanging out on the edges of tables. One little bump and it would come crashing to the floor. And, as for all the white furniture and bedspreads, well in my house, it wouldn’t take long for it to have cat hair and a smear of peanut butter on it.

In the model house, there wasn’t any dirty laundry. The drawers were empty. There weren’t any stubby crayons or fingerprints on the windows. There weren’t any giggles erupting from the backyard and chalk drawings on the driveway. 

Our house isn’t messy, but it’s lived in.  

As much as I liked the idea of living in a model home….it’s not realistic.  

Because life with kids means your house is a little dirtier but your heart is fuller. 

And, even when my house is really clean, you’ll still probably find a hamper full of laundry, some rogue toys stuffed into a closet, and some scuffs along the baseboards. 

My kids might be fighting over the last juice box or the lone ice pop in the freezer. Or they might be finger painting and making an absolute mess...and loving it.

My house isn’t perfect. It’s filled with sticky spots on the floor, dirty dishes, and snotty tissues.

 And, even if it did look perfect (for a few seconds that is), my life wouldn't be. There will still be disagreements and disappointments. 

My family isn’t perfect. I'm not perfect. Life isn't perfect. 

I don’t love my life all the time, but I do know that underneath the messes and the squabbles, there is a lot of beauty. There are some flawless moments weaved into the tapestry of life.

And, that's not an illusion.

Do you ever get wrapped up in the notion of perfection? 

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