Practice Makes Perfect
Posted by Karen Edmisten in Faith on Wednesday, June 30, 2010 6:00 AM
Years ago, my then-seven-year-old daughter struggled to make straight stitches on her first sewing project.
“This is too hard!” she complained.
I reminded her that every new skill takes practice. With a sigh, she jabbed the needle through the fabric and muttered something. A moment later she cried out, “Oh! I bet before Adam and Eve ate that apple, nothing took practice!”
Wow. I wanted to give her an “A” in Theology 101. Her frustrated outburst showed a precise grasp of fallen human nature.
“You’re right,” I consoled. “Adam and Eve had it made before the fall, didn’t they? And now nothing’s perfect and sometimes everything seems hard. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try, right?”
With that, we agreed on a break. As she put her sewing away, I thought about what I’d said. What does it mean to “try”? Try for perfection? There’s a Scriptural command to do just that: “Be perfect, as your heavenly father is perfect.” (Mt. 5:48) As commands go, that’s a scary one. Because I know me.
I can be counted on to be anything but perfect. I make mistakes, quarrel and get cranky. I can be selfish, treat others unfairly, and sometimes neglect my duties. I’m disagreeable when the humidity level soars and the forecast hints at the 90s. I consider coffee a medicine, necessary to humanize me before 8 a.m. I have a slew of other flaws I’d rather not detail here.
I don’t savor these behaviors and in fact demand better of myself. Christ demands better. I have to practice until I’m perfect. But how?
As a woman called to the vocation of marriage, my training ground is the domestic church. On a bad day, it’s obvious that our home—fallen human beings in every corner—is the perfect arena for the exercise.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church gives us the training outline. CCC 2227:
Each and everyone [in the family] should be generous and tireless in forgiving one another for offenses, quarrels, injustices, and neglect. Mutual affection suggests this. The charity of Christ demands it.
I have a confession: thinking about tireless forgiving makes me tired. I want to whine, “Please, Lord, can’t you just grant that I’m weak? Maybe leave it at that?”
Nope.
Fortunately, He won’t. He loves me too much. On the other hand, He’s a good dad who doesn’t issue orders without providing the means to obey them. He gave me Scripture, the sacraments, and prayer, and I’ve discovered that when I use them, I actually make a little progress.
Scripture is a history book, a rule book, a guide to better living, and the ultimate tome on self-improvement. It’s also a love note that waxes eloquent on the lengths my Beloved went to for my salvation. Daily contact with the Bible—even a quick reading, the recitation of a favorite verse that’s been posted on the fridge, a bit of the Liturgy of the Hours, or sharing any of the above with my children—helps me stay intimately connected to God.
The sacraments, those humble, little earthly actions that transmit heavenly grace, are another facet of my training. Baptism, Confirmation and first reception of the Holy Eucharist initiated me into this relationship with God. Ongoing reception of Holy Communion, the graces that flow from a sacramental marriage, and frequent confession keep me there. Grounded in this bond, I’m better equipped to handle the everyday demands of being a wife and mother.
And finally, there’s prayer. CCC 2567:
Man may forget his Creator or hide far from his face; he may run after idols or accuse the deity of having abandoned him; yet the living and true God tirelessly calls each person to that mysterious encounter known as prayer.
How often have I forgotten God or hidden from Him? Still, He tirelessly calls me back and asks me to tell Him my deepest longings every, single day. My prayer life, depending on the phase of my vocation, has ranged from full Rosaries to scattered Memorares to spontaneous and desperately tossed up pleas. But something has to happen. If I stop talking to God, I’ve stopped trying altogether.
I’m always amazed, too, at the way prayer sharpens everything else. The more I pray, the more I want to read Scripture, get to confession, and receive Holy Communion. The more I do all these things, the better I am armed for every battle. Fortified by God’s Word and sacraments, I then turn to Him even more often in prayer. It’s a holy circle that benefits my entire domestic church.
God tells us to be perfect and He means it, but He also knows our need for endless practice. When I’m tempted to lodge complaints against Adam and Eve for every injustice, I try to remember the tools I’ve been given. My progress may be sloppy and slow, much as my daughter’s first scrappy sampler was the work of a beginner. But she tried. Her results were sincerely beautiful. And I’m trying, too. Practice makes perfect.
— Karen Edmisten is author of The Rosary: Keeping Company with Jesus and Mary. Read her blog at KarenEdmisten.Blogspot.com.
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