What K.W.'s Dad's Thinking

  Good Morning friends!  For many of us this holiday season can be a busy time, and we can put a lot of extra pressure on ourselves trying to make it "perfect."  We feel we need to have the perfect home to entertain in, make the perfect dinner to feed our guests, and buy the perfect gift to convey our love.  We rob ourselves of joy though when we put the added pressure of perfection on ourselves.  It is often in the letting go that we find true freedom and peace.  With that being said, I want to share with you a very special post, guest written by my dad and sent to me in an e-mail this morning.  I hope you all enjoy the message of his words as much as I did and glean from it the lesson which can help you to enjoy not just this season, but every season as you move through life.  As always, I can't wait to see you succeed!

~K.W.

  "This morning I came walking out to my dining room table to see the art project [my grandson] and I had been working on.  I looked at it, and I could see all the imperfections.  There were places the paint was applied heavy, and places it was light, places the colors bled over into the other sections and didn’t stay within the lines.  I wanted to go over it, put a second coat on it so that when Aden came to get it it would be 'perfect.'  Then as I looked at it a little closer, I realized I was seeing the brush strokes, the paint that represented the application by hand of an 8 year old boy.  It suddenly dawned on me that I was not looking at a store bought, factory finished guitar; I was looking at Art, and it was Perfect.  Suddenly, I was looking at this with a completely different view. 

  When we were going to start this project, I didn’t want us to touch the guitar until we had made a plan, a plan  we could follow so it would be perfect and not some spontaneous paint slapped on the guitar.  I had visions of showing Aden how to carefully outline the edges and fill the centers so the edges would be clean and neat.  Once it was perfect, I wanted us to apply a clear coat that would preserve it perfectly.  Had I accomplished my goal it would not have been finished for a while, if ever; nor would Aden have enjoyed the project.  This was his project, his expression, not mine.  I had wanted to control the project, carefully allow one color out at a time, paint meticulously, clean up each brush so they constantly looked like new, and then when that was completely dry, move on to the next. 

  After we began and got the first color on, it didn’t get applied perfectly, but we had more coats to do, and we were going from the lighter colors to the darker.  There was still time to fix the 'mistakes.' When we began the second color, Aden put the paint in the palette before I got [to him].  I was expecting to see half the bottle poured into the palette, but he had watched and had poured out just the right amount.  I let him go thinking he would be working on that awhile because, of course, perfection has to be slow and meticulous.  A minute later he [was] out in the kitchen cleaning the brushes and palette, because, 'It’s done.'  I looked at it and almost cringed, but I [was] still thinking that there [was] time to 'fix' it.  As I [went] over to [re]clean the brushes he just cleaned, I look over and [saw] he [was] on to the next color.  He had discovered that the paint dried really quickly.  Pretty soon he was flying through his project.  When he did the back, he poured out all the colors in the palette at once.  It was difficult, but I let him go.  When he got done, he was ready to put the clear coat on, until we went to the store, and he heard me telling him that to do it right, it was going to take at least three coats with two hours drying time in between, and then of course, we needed to sand it [and] tack cloth it, before applying the next coat, so it would be perfect.  He had visions of this not getting done till Christmas.  He [very politely] convinced me that his project didn’t need a clear coat.  [It only needed] his signature to be complete.  

 

  Now, this morning, I am so glad I listened to an 8 year old boy.  As I look at it now, I see a guitar that represents his touch, demonstrate[s] his ability to work without my overseeing every detail, and [that] he got done.  The brushes and palette were cleaned.  No paint was spilled on the floor, and most of all, it got done.  

  How often in my life have I let projects that I wanted to do go undone for years, because if I was going to do it, I had to have the time and materials to do it 'right?'  All others wanted was [for] it [to be] done, (aka, a rocking chair for my little girl that never got done till she was all grown).  As I look at his project now, I realize how [truly] perfect it is.  I am hoping that this lesson sinks in [and] opens my eyes to a more creative side that I’ve always desired in my life but never thought I could have because I didn’t have the patience for perfection.  An 8 year old boy opened my eyes to the fact that perfection is not something without mistakes, it is something that represents our effort and creativity.  It is, as someone very dear to me has said,  'Perfectly imperfect.' "  

Written by:  Stephen Hoefler with inserts by K.W.