Living Imperfectly but with Great Delight

Last night, a coworker was telling me about her new puppy: the crate training, the careful plan for raising a well-behaved dog.

Naturally, I thought of my three maniacs at home. Dogs who bark like lunatics, have questionable manners, and seem largely unconcerned with my reputation as a responsible pet owner.

For a moment, I wondered if I’d done something wrong. Should I have trained them better? Been more consistent? Read a book? Hired a professional?

Probably.

But then I started thinking about how often we do this to ourselves. We look at someone else’s well-trained puppy, beautiful garden, spotless house, or accomplished children, and suddenly our own perfectly good lives look a little shabby.

But here is what I think is actually true: nobody has it all together. Not the people with the beautiful houses. Not the people with the impressive job titles. Not the people whose children collect academic and athletic achievements like Pokémon cards.

Everybody has something. A messy kitchen. A difficult relationship. A garden full of weeds. A dog who acts like the UPS man has come to murder the entire family.

Some people just have better curtains.

I wonder how much energy we waste keeping our imperfections out of sight, trying to make our lives meet a standard nobody seems to have agreed upon. Where exactly is the finish line?

That’s an exhausting way to live, and it leaves precious little time for enjoying the life you’re working so hard to perfect.

What if, instead of being embarrassed by our imperfections, we learned to giggle at them?

What if we stopped pretending the messy parts of our lives cancel out the wonderful ones?

They don’t.

I have three ridiculous dogs who make me laugh. I have a house where things are made, projects are started, and dishes are almost always waiting to be washed. I have ideas I’m excited about, people I love, and more things I want to do than I could fit into one lifetime.

And yes, I have things I could do better. Quite a few, actually.

But maybe the secret to a good life isn’t eliminating the imperfections. Maybe it’s getting comfortable enough with them that you can stop worrying about how everything looks and start enjoying how everything feels.

Nobody is handing out trophies for the cleanest kitchen or the most obedient dog. And even if they were, I probably wouldn’t win.

I’d be too busy laughing at my dogs.