Skip to main content

Imperfect Tuesday

Image
By
I am not perfect, far from it.

I have my flaws.  I am stubborn, I am passionate, I am selfish.  I am human.

I know my imperfections sometimes flow up to the surface and make me hard to live with, so says my husband and probably silently says my children.

For example, I can not stand clutter.  It make me physically ill.  And I am married to a man who is less than organized and even when I have washed, folded, and put his clothes in a place where he can get them, he still throws his suits on the chair, leaves dirty socks all around, and has more papers than there are trees.  My beautiful daughters are the messiest creatures I have ever met in life, my little fashionista leaves a mountain of clothes and I can rant and rave, and they are still there.  I turn into a mean momma at those moments.

In my imperfections, I also am passionate about the people in my life, about being authentic, and living a full life.  I learned in over 16 years with my husband that I have to just accept a bit of clutter, my home is not a showpiece, and no amount of buying storage bins or doing his laundry is going to change him.  He is not as bad as the horders (to a point!) and is a good provider and father, so I have to give him a pass.  I am trying to raise my girls, as I did my boys, to not be slovenly, that no one ever wants to live with anyone who does not know how to clean their own bathroom, clean their kitchen, and take care of their laundry - the basics.

I have to get away from things, at times, to gain a different perspective.  Living with people takes sacrifice and sometimes more grace than the mornings coffee will allow.

I am not perfect, I am human, and I have flaws.  I am also caring, compassionate, and concerned about a lot of things in the world.


Comments

Post a Comment

Thoughtful dialogue is appreciated.

Popular posts from this blog

Hannah's Song

By
We came together last night and sang Hannah's song. Family from California was in town, it was the night before Aunt Hannah's Home Going Celebration. We met at my house late in the evening to fellowship, remember, hug, eat, and laugh. Thom felt the love in the room and I'm sure his mom would've appreciated us doing what she did all her life - love. Aunt Hannah was a gracious woman. Her gentle spirit, sparkling eyes, and constant smile will be remembered. She has left us physically, but never spiritually. The laughter was like music in Thom's ear. For the first time in weeks I saw my cousin relax. He has been in a tornado for the past four weeks from his mother's diagnosis to her death. Even in her final stage, Aunt Hannah was granted her desire. She asked to not suffer long when it was her time to go, she had been a caregiver her whole life and I'm sure her prayer was for her son. In the last days of her life, she still greeted well wishers with a wa...
1 comment
Read more

Brothers, Can we Talk?

By
 I'm a Black woman, born of a Black woman and a Black man. When my mother died, it was my father who nurtured me and instilled in me a sense of pride of self, of my race, of my abilities to do whatever I put my mind to do. He never imposed limitations on me as a Black woman. The only caution he ever gave me was to not burn my candle at both ends and to be mindful of my health, I am an asthmatic. He never stopped me from trying anything and always encouraged me. Daddy was a strong Black man who introduced me to Shirley Chisholm when I was a little girl. He reminded me of the fortitude of my late mother's quest for gender equality in the workplace and of the namesake who marched at Selma.  He is the one who gave me my pseudonym, Tayé. Daddy was a strong tower of empowerment and fought all the way to his last breath for social, gender, and racial justice. It is in remembering my father this morning that I'm asking the brothers, can we talk? What is it, especially those of my g...
Post a Comment
Read more

Ashes to Ashes

By
 This is Ash Wednesday. For a lot of Catholics and Anglican Christians, it begins the holy season of Lent. We remember we are but dust and to dust we return, ashes to ashes.  It is a somber reminder of our humanity and the finality of life. We are a mere breath. Today, as a Hospital Chaplain Resident, I am imposing ashes on patients, family, and staff. It is a visible marker of a shared faith and belief. We look with anticipation to the finished work of salvation on the cross and in eager hope of the resurrection. As my day progressed, I noticed how much hope was in the eyes of the ones giving and receiving this reminder of our existence. It was both a somber moment and a joyful moment. Two things can exist at the same time. Like the world we find ourselves in. Even as it seems like the darkest, certainly the darkest I’ve known in my six decades on this earth. Completely imperfect as a nation, there was still a glimmer of light until the nightmare became reality. We wonder abo...
Post a Comment
Read more