My mother could do everything well. Every Monday, the washing was done and the clothes hung on a line to dry. Tuesdays were for ironing, Wednesdays, the house was cleaned from top to bottom, and shopping came on Thursdays. Fridays were “catch-up” days, and Saturdays were for fun and relaxation. Sunday, we got dressed and the family went to church. Twice each year, every piece of furniture in the house was moved outside for a good cleaning. Each spring, down came the heavy drapes and up went summer curtains. In the fall the summer curtains were removed, washed, starched heavily and stretched on ugly looking frames, to keep them in perfect shape for the next spring. Winter drapes replaced them. Under Mom’s watchful care, our home ran like “clock work.”
Also, Mother was good with hand work. Every towel and pillow case in our home had its own special embroidered design. She loved to quilt, and I imagine hundreds of her creations are still around, keeping people warm in the winter. And, she taught me to sew. When I was too small to sit down at her sewing machine, I stood with one foot on the floor and the other on the peddle while sewing seams in pillow cases for our beds.
That began my love for sewing and it continued until past middle age when arthritic fingers brought an end to it. During those years, I made all of my own clothes and many outfits for others all around the country. But sewing for others was nearly my downfall. Unlike my mother, whose creations were perfect, I never got the garments exactly right. When folks complimented me on a good job done, my reaction was that they were being kind, because I knew that I had surely failed to live up to their expectations. The more they bragged on my work, the worse I felt. Miserable and unproductive, (I thought) I felt as if I were in a prison from which there was no escape. A normally, outgoing, fun-loving gal, I fell into depression , and migraine headaches nearly incapacitated me.
When medicine brought no relief, my family doctor sent me to a specialist who taught biofeedback to migraine patients. “Maybe he can teach you to relax the headaches away,” she said, trying her best to encourage me. I was dubious, but sick at heart and desperate for relief. Without any enthusiasm whatsoever, I entered his office in August 1975. The receptionist ushered me into a side room and seated me in a comfortable chair, leaving me alone. In front of me was an oaken desk with a leather swivel chair pulled neatly up to it. I looked around the room and noticed how orderly it was, with books placed evenly on shelves around the walls. Everything was neatly in place––except on the corner of the massive desk before me, lay a single sheet of white paper. Nothing else on the desk at all, just this single piece of paper––and it was crooked! So I got up and straightened the paper––just so––until it lined up perfectly with the edge of the desk. Then I sat back down to await the doctor.
When he came in, he looked at the paper on his desk, then at me; laughed, and explained that the piece of paper was used as a “test.” “YOU are a migraine patient for SURE,” he said, “because migraine patients are the only ones who rearrange the paper to get it even with the sides of the desk.” His words hit me hard. I felt as though the Lord had used them as a two-by-four to get my attention, and I was listening! By the time the session was over, the message was as clear as if God had spoken to me directly: I had caused most of my own pain by trying to be perfect. By continually setting myself up to fail, I was guaranteeing that I would fail because I was not perfect. In trying to make my own life conform to my expectations, I had almost ruined my health. With this revelation, my Lord delivered me from prison. Relieved from a lifestyle I had forced upon myself, I left that office a changed gal. Like a butterfly casting aside its cocoon, I was free to be my new self! No longer would I give things the power to cause me pain. I no longer worried about what others might think, and from that time to today, I have not been burdened with even one migraine headache.
This message came straight from the Lord and it brought healing, not only to my physical body but to my soul as well. I began serving my church with glee and my Lord with pure delight. Being rid of “perfectionism” and all its trappings gave me freedom to enjoy my many friends who weren’t perfect either. With great relief, I knew I’d “joined the crowd.”
The only perfect person who ever walked this earth was our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Only He can offer me the hope of ever attaining perfection. But it won’t happen in this life. In trusting Christ as my Savior, He laid hold of me, thereby guaranteeing perfection when I see Him face to face.
Philippians 3:12
"Not that I have already attained, or am already perfected; but I press on, that I may lay hold of that for which Christ Jesus has also laid hold of me."
Evelyn R. Smith
© 2003 Bible Center Church
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