Fragment

I nearly ruined Easter.

I did the same thing with Christmas. I sometimes ruin perfectly good weekdays. It's because I crave perfection. (The skewed worldly version of perfection heavily influenced by art-directed magazine shoots, airbrushing and Currier & Ives.)

Easter is hands-down my favorite holiday. It celebrates the resurrection of Jesus Christ and coincides with what is usually a sunny, windless, bulb-popping-tree-blooming gorgeous spring morning.

How I Hoped Easter Would Pan Out: Vases dripping with tulips, daffodils and lilacs from my own yard would adorn every stationary indoor ledge. RE would flit down the stairs in her perfectly-fitted Easter dress and bouncy pink foam curler ringlets. She'd twirl with delight on the landing while the scent of homemade cinnamon rolls wafted through the sparkling house. I would be dressed in something spectacular with matching heels and a fresh, new lipstick. Greg would waltz into the kitchen and carry the cinnamon rolls to our abundant table, setting them somewhere between the frittata and the gilded egg place card holders. On his way back to the island he'd pick me up by my waist, spin me around and declare to all within earshot that I am the perfect wife and mother. "He is Risen" and Handel's "Hallelujah" chorus would be blasting on the Bose and after a leisurely brunch we would all walk to church holding hands while birds chirped.

How This Easter Really Panned Out: My yard produced ONE daffodil which withered quickly due to temperature change and wind. No vases. I decided to make RE's Easter dress completely out of stained goodwill shirts. It took many late nights of piecing, gathering, unpicking and altering but I did it. That's the only thing on my "Fantasy List" that I accomplished. I finished pressing The Masterpiece three hours before midnight and then started baking some labor-intensive sweet rolls called "resurrection rolls" for every kid at church. At midnight I had made only 24 of the 80 needed. I got up early Easter morning to finish the other 56, not realizing they would take three additional hours. I was so busy commandeering the island with my roll project that Greg cooked scrambled eggs and a can of Pillsbury orange rolls for us (which I never had time to eat.) Thirteen minutes before church I jumped in the shower and did the fastest, sub-par, non-spectacular hair and make-up I've ever done and slipped on a dress that was fifteen years old. The cherry on top? I lost my temper at my daughter who was crying because I never had time to curl her hair. Most of the first hour of church I was filled with angst at myself. How did my grand intentions turn into horror?

Easter made it evident that if I didn't change my standard of perfection I was going to ruin the lives of everyone around me. Yes, it's okay to appreciate visually stunning circumstances. Yes, I have the aptitude to cook well and sew medium-well and set a mean table. Yes, I can love the details. No, I cannot expect to have it all ALL of the time.

The following week was spent at my parents' condo in Orange Beach, Alabama. Four days of staying up late, sleeping in, reading by the pool, sunning by the ocean and eating Milano Melts. Heaven. We beachcombed daily for the sea's fresh offerings. Foam-edged waves packed the wet sand like brown sugar. Beneath the ebb and flow of warm salt water I found a large fragment of a once-perfect sand dollar. I grabbed it and decided that was what I wanted to collect this trip. Pieces of sand dollars. Greg and RE helped me find more. I don't know why I wanted them. They looked like perforated styrofoam peanuts or chunks of old sidewalk.

Stretched out and drying off on my bright towel I began piecing my fragments together like a puzzle. I was trying to make one whole sand dollar from the bits. Then it hit me. Life isn't one whole perfect piece. Life is whole because we piece perfect fragments together and do our best to fill in the outline.

I think I already knew this. Somehow I forgot?

I framed my pieced sand dollar to remind me to enjoy the fragments life offers. No day is perfect, but each day has perfect moments. Repentantly, I now wake up and say to myself, "I have no idea what today will bring, but I'm certain something AWESOME is going to happen before I hit the pillow."

MY PERFECT MOMENTS THIS WEEK:

MONDAY> I heart mowing! Nothing like sucking up the dregs of winter and making fresh lines in the lawn. I got to see RE's exhilaration as she discovered lime-green shoots of baby grass growing beneath decomposing leaves in the corner of the yard. Tiny, thin blades trying to glow green in the dark: how do you force growth with all that weight on you?

TUESDAY> Front parking spots at Walmart, Target and the temple.

WEDNESDAY> Skipped one hour of the "Hope of America" pre-show by walking to Slab Pizza south of BYU campus. Got my fix of Thai pizza with an extra side of peanut sauce. Walked back to the Marriott Center umbrella-less in the pouring spring rain on sidewalks slippery with pear blossom petals.

THURSDAY> After a particularly rough day I was lifted by the unexpected visit and wisdom of a dear friend. And there was really good fruit dip at Book Club.

FRIDAY> Double date with funny friends. Funny Friend Husband tried on a too-small jacket at Forever 21 and did the robot. I nearly died laughing. Started a book after the date and it was so good I had to read the entire thing without stopping. Finished the book in bed at 1:30 a.m. with husband on my left and puppy on my right.

SATURDAY> Can't let puppy out into the yard without the smell of lilacs nearly knocking me over.

SUNDAY> Inched towards our annual goal of "Cook Fish Well" with orange roughy prepared two perfect ways. Fish doesn't taste like a dog toy? Who knew?! Received a beautiful letter in a yellow envelope. Laughed with neighbors during our walk around the block. Laughing always makes me sleep well.

Expect less. Salvage more.

Update on Tuesday, May 8, 2012 at 7:50PM by Melissa Durkovich Lawson

Religiously-based afterthought:

Funny enough, but the day after I posted this I got the latest edition of BYU Magazine and there was an article by Janet Scharman entitled "Seeking Perfection Without Being a Perfectionist" based on the Bible scripture Matthew 5:48 "Be ye therefore perfect." The best line of her article for me?

"Because becoming perfect through Christ is a powerful and important doctrine, Satan comes up with a counterfeit. Perfectionism is a counterfeit to real spirituality and is easily confused."

So there you go. Couldn't have said it better myself. Only one Being can help us become perfect, which is why it's so futile to attempt it on our own.