Permission to let go of perfection

succulent

You know when you repeatedly encounter a phrase or sentiment, and by like, the third time you’re thinking — hmmm, maybe there’s something to this? Or perhaps the incidents seem completely unrelated, but you see a common thread running through them? I’ve had that recently around the idea of house perfection.

The first time was last week when a friend popped by and my house was a mess. I apologized but she quickly responded, “no, it’s nice. It’s lived in.” The next was experiencing a host who kept clearing dishes before the guests were finished. The third happened last Saturday while wandering around a box store with my husband and daughter. “I really want us to have more ‘real’ plants in our house,” he said. “Well, I love them but I’m terrible at taking care of them,” I replied, “If we decide to do that — it needs to be your responsibility to keep them alive.” He looked at me blankly and said, “I’m already the one who does that.” “Ha! Well then, we‘re making it official,” I concluded. 😉

So how are these connected? No matter how tempting it is to equate coziness with perfection — they aren’t necessarily one and the same. And then there’s us — maybe we need to accept we just can’t do it all perfectly all the time. Stains happen, your favorite mug shatters, the plant shrivels up, someone unexpectedly drops by and you still have yesterday’s mascara under your eyes. Oddly enough, these things don’t destroy coziness. In fact, they may just help cultivate it.

I used to be a hardcore everything-in-it’s-place-and-matchy-matchy kind of girl. Until a family of 5 moved in with us for 3 months. By the end, I couldn’t remember which throw pillows went where or when I last dusted — but we were closer than ever.

Bottom line, if we’re going to create welcoming spaces for real people — we have to accept stuff’s going to happen, and loosen our grasp on perfection. We may have to face our own house shame, fear of judgment or fear of damage. I still sometimes battle that stuff, but I’ve resolved that who does life within these walls is infinitely more important than what hangs on them.

BE the light

I overheard a stranger at the mall confiding in his friend last night, “I’ve been doing the right thing for 10 years already and it hasn’t made any difference. I’m not doing it anymore.” My heart sank for the guy. You could hear his frustration and despair. The fact of the matter is, as beautiful and magical as they are, holidays are also hard. So many people dread this time of year because they’re grieving, struggling, lonely, stressed out, or in peril… broken hearts needing comfort and joy. Maybe you are one of them.

light in the darkness
I’ve personally experienced the pain of excruciating loss and betrayal, and yet I still believe there is always hope. No tear goes unseen. There’s a scripture verse that says “The light shines in the dark and the darkness has not overcome it.” Sometimes all we need is a sliver of light to cut through the darkness we’re facing. And sometimes we can even BE that light for someone else. I mean, it’s the broken vessel that spills out the most light, right?

This holiday, may we find light and hope in the middle of despair. May we tune our ears to the needs around us. And may our homes be cozy, safe, hope-lit havens for those needing a soft place to land.

We time

My favorite tenet of Hygge is “We time, not me time.” Yes, laying in a hammock or curling up in a reading corner (two of my favorite solo past times) ARE cozy, but the truest forms of hygge are shared with people you love. That’s why when intentional togetherness becomes part of your personal values or family culture, hygge (and probably a little bickering 😏) isn’t far behind.

Let your goal be to create cozy, welcoming spaces, then intentionally carve out time to fill them with the laughter, vulnerability and warmth of shared meals, conversation and real relationship. Focus on the “we.”

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