Editing Life

"Kris, my mother loved me after all." My friend's face beamed. She went on to explain that her mother had criticized her all her life. At the writer's conference we were attending, she realized her mother was an editor, not pointing out faults out of disdain, but trying to make corrections for her benefit. Good news for my friend, but it made me think about my own perfectionism, and its influence on my daughters.

Later, a publishing editor commented on his wife's misfortune in being married to an editor, because he always focuses on problems. Now this really hit home. How did my perfectionism affect my marriage?

When my husband tells me about his work projects, I frequently give suggestions on alternate ways to do things. I think I'm helping, and ocassionally I am. But sometimes he responds in anger. At first I thought he just wanted to do things his way, but now I see he takes my comments as criticism. He feels I'm questioning his personal competence.

I love editing. My skill in catching typos and missed punctuation marks is greatly appreciated in my writer's critique group. But when I try to micromanage my husband's work, sparks fly. We both get upset, and both get our feelings hurt. Few things in life get my emotions down like a fight with my beloved. This pain goes deep to my core.

But I can prevent this emotional turmoil. I can change my ways and stop trying to perfect every detail my husband shares with me. I'm making an effort to let go and let him do his thing. He sees the big picture, and the little changes I would make don't make a significant difference, anyway. I'm letting him handle his problems, and practicing being content with things his way.

More than that, I'm choosing to adjust my tongue. Instead of suggestions, I'm doling out compliments. Instead of telling him what I think he should do, I'm telling him how much I appreciate what he does. This is easy. He's a very hard worker. I could never accomplish all he does. I'm extremely thankful to have such a talented, diligent husband, and I need to tell him so more often.

Editing is essential to good writing, but not so much in life. I'm learning that perfectionism, when focused on others, is sometimes received as criticism or rejection. The resulting angst hurts everyone. I want to prevent this emotional drama in my life by lightening up on details and focusing on the good, like God does with me.

The Perfect Plan

All I wanted was for Mother to get the best care possible after her accident. Diagnosis and treatment−that seemed easy enough. In the emergency room, the barrage of complex tests and speed of specialist visits impressed me. Things were progressing quickly until Mom got admitted to a hospital room.

Once there, communication bogged down. The doctor gave a wrong order, the Physical Therapy department inadvertently canceled their diagnostic evaluation, the nurse misunderstood my mom's pain level, etc. I tried my best to intercede and clarify in an attempt to get the right help for the correct symptoms. But the harder I tried, the worse things seemed to get. In the end I had to give up on perfection and let others flounder around while Mother suffered. It was excruciating to watch.

Through this experience I learned we don't have a perfect hospital system, but we do have a perfect Savior. Jesus filled my heart with peace as I trusted that, though Mom's care seemed mediocre, he had the situation in his hands. God doesn't promise to eliminate the bad, but to walk us through in victory, and even in the worst circumstances, to work for the good of those who love him.

And he proved himself faithful. God provided caring staff all along the way to encourage us, and an extremely qualified surgeon who exceeded our expectations with his skill. God answered the myriads of prayers offered up by friends, and my mom's pleas for strength to persevere. Through it all he drew our family even closer to each other and to himself.

Over the last few months, Jesus prepared me for this ordeal by teaching me that things don't have to be perfect to be okay (see my Nov. & Dec. blog posts). Knowing this enabled me to drink the whole glass of God's love by letting go, accepting Plan B and watching God work in ways I couldn't have imagined.

Mother returned home last week in good spirits and well on her way to recovery.

A Merrier Christmas

Gazing at the sparkling array of lights and ornaments on the Christmas tree is one of my favorite things to do, but putting up the tree is not. My beloved Christmas CDs and a steamy cup of hot chocolate usually sweeten the chore, but not this year. As I painstakingly labored to place each ornament in just the right place, I became aware that I felt so grumpy it hurt. How sad is that−having such a bad attitude I felt sick while preparing the Christmas joy?

Why did I dislike this chore so much? My perfectionism−again. With each stage of decorating, I faced the daunting task of arranging decorations symmetrically on an asymmetric tree. The garland needed to drape in a precise spiral. Every shiny ball must be evenly spaced and color balanced.

Frustration gripped me as gaping holes appeared at every turn. An almost imperceptible voice in my head whispered I don't want to do this. Press on and just get it done. Must find the perfect place for this one. No, that's not good enough. I hate this.

But wait a minute. This was a Christmas task. Shouldn't I be able to do it cheerfully?

How Lord?

My thoughts went back to four years ago when my arms ached while decorating the tree because of nerve damage from the bends. I should be happy to have healthy arms to reach and move. How many other people are not physically able to do what I can?

I have a beautiful tree, but that wasn't always so. In this economy, how many others wish they had a tree to adorn and enjoy? I should be grateful for all I have.

As my thinking shifted, the ache in my stomach disappeared. Just like that. The Christmas music seemed to get louder, and my newfound sense of wellbeing nudged me on.

I started thanking God for the people and events that came to mind with each ornament I picked up. My heart warmed with each fond memory.

Somehow, having a perfect tree didn't seem so important now. Instead of agonizing over the placement of each ornament, I started slapping them up just to get them on. I could always reposition them later. But a funny thing happened−I only changed a few. Most were fine just where they were.

This year for Christmas I received the antidote for grouchiness−thankfulness. I also took another step in conquering that joy-killer−perfectionism. Now it truly is a merrier Christmas.

My Marvelous Fiji Vacation

As we passed through security at the LA airport on our way to Fiji, Bob's glasses fell out of the bin and were mangled between the rollers. I managed to find and retrieve the lenses from under the conveyer belt, but when I held the plastic discs up to the twisted strips of metal that had been the frames, none of the shapes remotely matched. I wanted to show Bob all the spectacular things my mother and I had seen last year. How could he possibly see them now? My heart plunged into despair.

During the next few hours, God started showing me how my perfectionism puts a damper on my joy. I have a hard time being happy unless everything is just right. And not just with me, but also with those around me. How can I be happy if the people I care about are having troubles?

Could I overlook this glasses catastrophe and enjoy my vacation? I prayed for a miracle−only divine intervention could put these Humpty Dumpty glasses back together again. Then I wrestled with God as I strained to let go, accept and enjoy the trip.

In Fiji, we took our sorry handful of parts to a new jeweler in town who was able to fix them. Later that day each lens fell out again, but God enabled me to slip them back into place. They miraculously remained intact the rest of the trip.

On the boat ride to the resort, God again blessed me with new wonders as, to our delight, we saw flying fish soaring above the waves and dolphins arching alongside our vessel. With fresh enthusiasm I bounded into the resort dining room to greet my favorite staff member.

A new server greeted me. When I asked if John was there, she hesitatingly told me he died unexpectedly last month. Died. Tears blurred my vision as reality set in. Was I now supposed to enjoy a happy vacation in light of such grave news?

Over the next few hours I processed the ramifications of John's life and death. I remembered his hospitality and kindness to me, and his prayers for my salvation and healing when I had the bends. He had told me his testimony so I knew he was a Christian, and at peace in heaven. I accepted life there without him, and let him go.

The skies were sunny when we arrived at Namena Island, but that afternoon a storm blew in and remained the entire week we were there. The year before, perfectly calm weather enabled my mother and I to snorkel the reef almost every day. This time the wind-blown waves were so rough we couldn't do this even once. But God continued to show his grace by giving us four beautiful dives, wowing us with His underwater creation. He showed His love by parting the clouds whenever we dove, casting rays of sunlight into the depths to reveal the vibrant colors.

Bob and I had a romantic, intimate week huddled in our cliff-side cottage, sheltered from the wind. We couldn't see all the amazing critters from past trips, but God gifted us with new ones. The protected red-footed boobie birds were sitting on their nests, and we got to see one of the first fluffy chicks up close.

Each day brought new surprises−a garden of giant clams, sightings of blue-spotted stingrays, and a swim with a school of barracuda. We even got to cuddle some adorable, tame flying foxes (yes−they are bats). There were a few more disappointments. I got sick shortly after our kids joined us, and the accommodations at the last resort were challenging. But God guided me through and helped me make the best of each circumstance.

Jesus showed me it's normal to have some bad mixed with the good. Everything doesn't have to be perfect for me to be happy. It's okay to deal with the problems with God's help and let them go, then focus on the good gifts God showers on me.

It was a joyous vacation.