We did it.
The dust has settled, the house guests have gone home and the flower arrangements are starting to wilt. Wedding outfits are in the wash and the redundant to do lists have been binned.
I feel completely exhausted. And totally content.
Contentment is a gift and I have grown to treasure it, because for much of my life it has been a battle. Being content has so often been strangled by perfectionism. My idealistic nature would dream up plans, scenarios and colourful Pinterest pages, only for the reality to painfully disappoint and steal my happiness.
But thankfully, contentment can be learned.
When we stir up gratefulness to God, we produce conditions where envy and disappointment wither and contentment can thrive.
Ann Voskamp beautifully says it like this, ‘Being joyful isn’t what makes you grateful. Being grateful is what makes you joyful.’
I have found that gratitude and joy help me to accept things as they are and acceptance is a powerful, life-changing quality for recovering perfectionists.
Acceptance on the day of my daughter’s wedding kept my joy and sanity intact.
I had, long before the big day, accepted the fact that there were things we could not control. So, when the heavens opened just as we were all leaving for the church, I just thanked God for umbrellas and frizz-control hairspray.
When the weather spoiled the plans for live music outside after the wedding, we laughed and hugged and took pictures inside a beautifully decorated corridor of the university building.
And there were other little mishaps. I totally forgot to put on earrings in the rush of getting ready. I burst into tears when I realised the moment I had imagined of seeing Hannah come down the stairs of our home in her wedding dress was going to happen after I had to leave for the church. We all ran a little late. We got a little snappy. We lost things and forgot things.
And the day was imperfectly wonderful.
2 Corinthians 4.7 says, ‘But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.’
This is the life of a Christian on earth. We have treasure, but it is wrapped in clay. Every perfect thing that God does in our hearts and lives has to contend with earthly limitations. He is perfect. We are not. His kingdom is glorious. This world is muddy.
And our beautiful Christian wedding was the same. It was a divine moment when two people became one, when families that love each other witnessed and celebrated and danced together. It was a day of beauty but it was wrapped up in inevitable imperfection.
But if we can accept this truth about our lives, there is a divine purpose because God promises us that our imperfections highlight His glory.
One of my favourite quotes is by Priscilla Shirer. She says, ‘Contentment is the equilibrium between the enjoyment of life now and the anticipation of what is to come’
As I danced with my nieces and nephews and laughed with old friends, I was living in that equilibrium, in the place where God’s glory is wrapped up in tired feet and too much cake and rain-flattened, mother-of-the-bride hair.
It is a wonderful place where I have grace to accept the imperfection of clay and worship the good God who one day will wrap glory in glory, for all eternity.
As I told my daughter the week before the wedding, happy weddings are beautiful weddings.
And happy, content lives are beautiful ones that point to the goodness and sufficiency of life with our God. They shout, ‘He is enough for me.’
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