There are moments in our lives – subtle beats – where we need to come to terms with things that were, things that are, and things that can be. For me, today was one of those days.
I was painting a room – simple monotony. I jokingly like to say that for a guy who likes to paint, I really hate painting. I can’t even begin to tell you how true (and possibly ironic) this is. But that’s beside the point.
The room we were painting is full of shelving, angles, and awkward crawlspaces. Our former laundry/storage room is slowly transforming into a wine cellar. There is nothing straightforward about this room. After a thick coat of primer and a thick coat of acrylic paint, I looked back to observe our handiwork, only to be slightly disappointed with the final result. There were streaks and patches where the old paint was shining through, and it looked far from cohesive.
Now, most people would have left it at that and come back to do another coat later.
I am not one of those people.
It bothered me in every sense. I couldn’t leave it. So, I did what any other neurotic person would do and kept painting. I didn’t want to come back and do another coat later. I wanted to finish this. I wanted it to be perfect. And after another twenty minutes of painting, perhaps a mild concussion, and covered head to toe in paint, I thought I had done my job…
Only to turn around and realize many of the flaws I saw in it were still there.
Those moments I had mentioned before? This is one of them. Right here.
I had to come to grips with the fact that no matter what I did then, the paint was too new and wet to be any more than it was. It would take time to dry – to settle. Then, and only then, would it be ready to become more than it was. I could throw as much paint as I wanted at it. But it would still be streaky. It would still show parts of the old paint. It would still be imperfect.
The problem wasn’t with the room itself. The problem was me.
I wanted to rush to change the room. I wanted to achieve the perfection I was seeking quickly. But the harder I tried to push it, the more grief I caused myself. The more frustrated I became.
Like that room, we all have pasts – things that have happened to us. Things that we used to be. They mark us. They change us, but they do not define who we are today. And what we go through today will help us become who we are tomorrow. But it takes time. It takes work. And it takes patience. And ultimately, forgiveness.
I will never be perfect. There will always be flaws. Who I was is not who I am. Nor is the person I am who I will be tomorrow. But each piece is a part of our endless journey to be something greater than we are.
I want to be better. And I will keep working every day to be better.
And as for the room, it will never be perfect either. But it will be a wine cellar, someday.
Just not today.
The CJBuzz 