Lessons

Perhaps I am too good at looking at things as object-lessons; I don't know.

But today, I realized I was possibly "bein' schooled."

It was a workday at the local Christian camp. They have regular workdays because there's a lot of upkeep necessary the (now ex-)director didn't exactly keep his end up, and there's been tons of deferred maintenance - to the point where the denominational office is making noises about selling off the camp and making one big camp "in a convenient central location" (not for us; it would be a 3 hour drive for us - meaning our kids wouldn't go, most likely).

So we're doing something that may wind up being a futile task (if the denomination decides to sell the site, everything will be plowed under to make way for either McMansions or luxury condos for the rich folks who are fleeing the city to the south of us...it's kind of the Aspen phenomenon in some areas around here already, where the rich folks move in and either people feel they "have" to sell because their land goes so high, or utility costs skyrocket, or the rich city folk complain because people have chickens or donkeys on their property - chickens and donkeys they had long before the rich folk moved in. But money talks...so the chickens and donkeys usually wind up going.

Anyway. So I showed up. Found out that my youth group wasn't going to be there (d'oh) because of "illness, girlfriends, and football," or so the other guy from my church who showed up told me his phone message went.

(An aside: I worked HARD this week. I even gave up my usual Friday night relaxation to grade a mess of student papers so I'd have this morning free. I don't ever get to use...I don't know, "Shopping" or "Working on a quilt" as an excuse for not doing something).

The men were cutting tree limbs. I looked kind of longingly and the stacks of limbs piling up and made noises about "you need someone to make brushpiles for you, or load those into a wagon?" because I generally prefer outdoor, muscular-type work to cleaning.

But no. They needed me to clean. Specifically, to wash windows.

And I admit I grumbled as I did it. (I was washing the outside of the windows - the spider-encrusted, greasy, icky outside). "Why am I doing this?" I asked. "This makes no difference at all. No one's going to see this - it's not like the brush-cutting where the entrance looks immediately better."

And then later on: "I can't do a good enough job at this. No matter how hard I work, there are still going to be stains and webs and the windows are still going to be kind of greasy."

And you know...it was almost like someone was responding to me, going, "There's no unimportant work here. What you do will matter even though you don't think it matters as much as things like brush cutting."

And: "You sometimes have to learn to live with "good enough" as the quality of your work. Not everything can be done to perfection."

So I kept working. Eventually, I realized - hey, the windows look pretty good, they look brighter and cleaner. (At least from the outside).

And then I went indoors to change the water. And you know, from the inside? The windows still looked streaky and ugly and (to my eyes) not "better" enough from how they were. But other people reassured me that they were a LOT better.

And I wonder if that isn't one of my problems: I see everything I do from the "inside," so to speak: I can see all the smudges and streaks and the not-perfect-job. But maybe, if you look from the outside, it's really kind of OK. I once had a friend who told me that I was "too good at too many things" - and the fact that I was good at a lot of things lead me to be extremely self-critical, because I expected that I would be able to do everything well.

And I've also read that one of the values in "failure" - in doing something, trying something you know you're not that expert at - is that maybe, that failure can be like the comparison - like the white wall that sets off a piece of artwork - and you come to appreciate the things you CAN do well more. I don't know.

I refer to myself as a "recovering perfectionist" but the truth is, just like anyone who is in "recovery" from anything, I do have relapses, times when I fall back into the old ways of thinking.