The Pursuit of Perfection

It was the typical Saturday morning activity…cleaning house.  I love a neat, clean house.  Getting it clean and that even harder job of keeping it that way is a challenge.  It has gotten even harder in our current home, which features dark hardwood floors.  That morning, while the morning sun shone full on the vast dune of dust particles, I vacuumed, dust mopped, and Swiffered until I was satisfied that I captured the majority of it.  By the evening when the sun makes its way in the front door, there will be a light sprinkling of new dust. It fascinates the husband. “Where does this all come from? How did it get back on here so fast?” It would be awesome if I could figure out a way to keep these floors in a constant state of clean. Alas, it’s not in my budget for a live-in maid, which is the only real solution to my problem. I can close the shades to shut out the direct sunlight, and the floor looks fine. But let the light hit it, and every dust crumb shines like a diamond. My “clean” house is an illusion.

Our lives have the influx of all kinds of media—TV, movies, computers, phones. Along with that has come an evolving change in our expectations of what life should be. What could be seen as a wonderfully amazing portal to the world to some can be a source of great personal angst for others. The perfect images that have become the norm from social media often are not the truth.  They are arranged strategically, lighted to showcase the subject, cropped to hide the pile of mail on the counter, or dirty socks in the floor. There are birthday parties with beautiful children and cakes, and everyone is smiling and happy. Guys at the lake fishing, enjoying the day. Groups of beautiful young women, stylishly dressed. It could lead the viewer to believe that all these people are leading charmed, perfect lives.

I love photography, because you can tell a story that touches someone’s heart.  My first instinct is to attempt the perfect stage.  Lighting, angle, timing—all key components.  The magic of each photo is that you only see what shows up in the frame, the scenario that the photographer has created. Most of the time, they don’t reveal the whole story.  The above photo of mine shows three rustic houses against a backdrop of green and a pond behind.  What I cropped off the side was some dilapidated trailer houses with junk cars in the front, a trashy place on I-40 that most never even give a second glance. My idyllic scene has a dirty secret, as most photos do. Social media is no different. Those birthday photos?  Perhaps mom and dad had a fight before it started because mom spent too much money.  Those beautiful young women? Maybe one has a drug or alcohol problem, or another suspects her husband is having an affair.

There have been recent studies that indicate people, especially teens and young women, feel inadequate because so many of their peers appear to have the perfect life. Social media escalates this “imagined life”, as most people just post the good things going on in their lives--personal accomplishments, new purchases, vacations, weddings, new babies, evenings out. They don’t post photos of the stack of bills waiting to be paid, the kids throwing tantrums, the weeds in the yard, or the divorce papers being signed. Listen, we all know every night is not a steak dinner, some nights it’s a ham sandwich—but when that is all we see of our friend’s lives, it is easy to feel like our average days are not measuring up.  

Exactly like my “illusion” of a clean house, so is the perfect life. We can try our best to clean things up, but the gritty realities sift back in. I appreciate my FB friends who post those real-life photos and tell those less than perfect stories. I have a few young ones on my news feed that make me smile with their photo “fails” …the baby barf on the Sunday outfit, the ginormous mess made by their little hellions, the family photo with that one screaming kiddo…they are all photos of the perfectly imperfect life God has so graciously granted.

Now if you will excuse me, I need to go dust...but I might just close the shutters.

Peace, friends.