I’d been trying to schedule a good two-hour block for weeks. I’m gone most days till right before school gets out, so a good chunk of time that size had been eluding me and I couldn’t figure out how to make it work. All I needed was to get the ironing finished up. I love it when everything’s done at once, twenty or thirty coat hangers propping up crisp collars and holding out sleeves. No obstacles when it comes to getting dressed, everything’s ready for the taking. I’m usually pretty on top of the ironing because it’s one of the housekeeping chores I actually love. But I just haven’t been able to gather as many minutes as I need in one place. So a brilliant (obvious) idea came to mind. Instead of 20 shirts, I just did three. Took less than ten minutes. Nothing. I can totally keep up on a schedule like that. Just funny that it took me so long to realize that it was never a matter of all or nothing. It could be part.
I thought about this again as I slid a letter into Bronwyn’s scrapbook, one from her missionary brother. And another picture in beside it. I’ve had her scrapbooks out for days, the idea of getting to them rattling around in my brain since last summer; here we are a year later. But as I put that one piece of paper into the binder instead of the little drawer beside it, I felt a teeny bit accomplished. I do this with our missionary son’s letters every week. I’ll print out the ones he emails us, and I’ll three-hole punch the ones we get in the mail. I download pictures and have printed quite a few. Nothing fancy, I haven’t embellished a thing. But instead of waiting till I have a huge chunk of time when I can do a beautiful professional book (that, let’s be honest, would never happen), I’m content with adding a page here and another next week in a regular white binder. It’s been nearly two years and his 2-inch binder is heavy and thick with pages and memorabilia. And so are the other kids’ books. It doesn’t have to be either the fancy, beautiful kind or nothing at all. It can be in between.
Like all the women in my family, I’m the worst when it comes to homemade treats just hanging around the house. Never had a candy stash. Or stopped at the gas station for a drink. Or been tempted by open bags of chips in the pantry. But chocolate chip cookies are my drug of choice and I’m a binge eater when it comes to a) fresh ones right out of the oven, b) crispy ones with milk when I’m chatting with the boys, or c) anyone else’s any time they’re around. It’s bad. But I also want to be healthy. And so I’m constantly teetering: carrots and peppers just to be good and then cookies and milk. I’ll indulge. Once in awhile I’ll go overboard. But I pull myself up and dry off. Just because I lose my balance and cave now and then doesn’t mean I give up on myself and my mostly healthy habits.
And I have super strong opinions about dieting. I don’t believe in them. I don’t think it’s good for our bodies to make dramatic—but temporary—changes, only to go back to “real life” after the weight’s gone. Too many desperate people have tried diets and have been disappointed when they inevitably go off their diets. I don't think it's good to have large meals followed by hours with no food, all and then nothing. I believe our bodies need consistency when it comes to fuel, three meals with a couple of small healthy snacks. I believe in a hearty breakfast. I don’t believe in banishing certain ones like fruits and grains; rather I believe in eating a colorful array of all sorts of foods God’s given us. I know that’s maybe not a popular opinion, but I’m convinced that diets aren’t sustainable. Small life-changes that we can live with forever, yes, totally on board. But on and off again, no sugar, no bread… I’m just not convinced that all or nothing is the way.
I think about this idea a lot when I have a decision about exercising in the mornings. I’m pretty much on auto-pilot as far as exercising goes, just a habit I adopted many, many years ago. But sometimes I’ll get a late start and don’t have an hour. So I bought a bunch of 20 minute workouts. I know it’s not optimal, but I always feel like I accomplished something. It always feels better to have done a little kick-boxing, a few ab exercises, some weights, or just a couple of cardio routines than to have skipped it altogether. Even if I have zero time, it never hurts to do a few stretches, a few sit ups, some jump rope, just five or ten minutes of moving around to help wake up. It doesn’t have to be a choice between a major workout or nothing.
That’s why I don’t get into these extreme exercise programs. Is it something I can see myself doing at 70? Why would I spend all these hours creating huge muscles that—when I stop—will just turn to flab? I believe in mixing it up, in cross training, in using weights, in pushing ourselves, of course! But to train for a marathon for six months and then take six months or a year off of from exercising? No, I don’t believe in that. I think it’s way better to walk a few miles every day and never run a marathon in your life. I think we’d come out ahead in the long run.
I like my little sister’s philosophy. She has three school-aged boys living with her and her husband in a 1400 square foot house. She’s feminine and and loves to create an atmosphere that showcases her love of beauty, but that’s hard given those parameters. Since she can’t have everything she’d love (because there’s no room and because fragile decorations could get broken), she focuses on small reminders. She loves delicate, beautiful jewelry, a little bird that might sit by her sink on a shelf, a tiny picture frame with a scene from a piece of the country she loves. I admire her for her eye for beauty and her determination to embrace it as she can. My mom was like that too. We grew up in an apartment, and we all wanted a house more than anything else. But instead of giving up because her dream wasn’t being fulfilled, she made our apartment as nice as she could by painting it every year, bleaching the grout in the kitchen tiles regularly, cleaning the insides and outsides of our second-story windows, and keeping it tidy and nicely decorated. I love that she taught us this principle, make the best of what we have, it doesn’t have to be either your dream house or squalor.
I’ve thought about this idea so often over the years, all or nothing. Because I think we’re tempted by it. I’ve known people who subscribe to this philosophy, and I sort of feel sorry for them. Because it’s as if there are only two choices: perfection or failure. And none of us is no where near either.
I’ve wondered if it even applies to the most important parts of our lives, like maybe parenting. But not at all. If we gave up after every parenting mistake we’d made, we wouldn’t have made it through week one with our newborns. We’re constantly readjusting, learning, trying, apologizing, and getting back up. It’s not as if we’re either “that” kind of mom or we’re not, we’re just us. Our kids want security, consistently, stability, to know they’re loved. They want parents who are level-headed, who they can rely on, who will be there. They don’t need a Pinterest or Facebook-worthy life, and we don’t need to feel like failures because we aren’t providing that. I think the one area we might want to consider being perfect in is our love. But just because we aren’t there yet doesn’t mean we give up. We can steadily make progress, we can improve, we can keep trying. We can practice being unconditional with our love; we have ample opportunities to try again and again.
Originally I thought that if parenting wasn’t, then church was for sure the one exception, that I’d found a loophole. But it’s not. Those who want church in their lives are on a committed-continuum. There’s no room for all or nothing. Because who among us is perfect and who among us has no hope? I know what you’re thinking, you’re either hot or cold, in or out. Yes, of course I know the scripture. But the problem I’ve seen is when we’re over-zealous but then burn out. Or when they focus on one teaching to the exclusion of many others. What good does it do to have one holy day on a Sunday and do little else regarding what you learned the other six days? Isn’t it better to read from the scriptures and pray a little every day than to do it all in one day so you can take the other days off? I know I’ve succumbed to this mistaken philosophy over the years, feeling like if I don’t study the scriptures hard-core for the day then I’m not really acknowledging how much I love Heavenly Father and appreciate the scriptures. And yet, I’ve softened over the years and realize and accept that sometimes I’m just going to read a chapter or a few verses and recognize that I’ve invited the spirit into my life, I’ve learned some things, I feel closer to Christ and more hopeful and committed, and I’ve thought about some teachings from a new angle, all from just from a few minutes. Other days I have a little more time and can delve into a deeper study, spend more time, research, inquire. But I don’t beat myself up because that’s not my reality every day. Same with service and family scriptures and everything else “churchy” we do. We aren’t excellent at any of it, and we don’t spend even half an hour reading as a family every day, but we do read a little most mornings and touch bases again with a little more in the evening when our teenagers are around. Not anything to emulate, but we’ve managed to keep up for years. You know I believe in small and simple things. And no where is this more applicable than when it comes to our feelings about God and what we do about them. Heavenly Father cares way more about our small and steady steps toward him than he cares about where we are on the path; the last thing he wants us to feel is discouraged and hopeless because we don’t seem to be keeping up with some arbitrary, self-imposed expectations. He’s not an all or nothing God. He understands that our faith will waver, that we’ll have questions, that trials have the potential to create distance, that sometimes we’ll be upset with Him, that we won’t always live up to what we profess to believe, that we’re weak, that we’re human. He knows and accepts all of it. He created us, He knows us. All He asks is that we turn toward Him, not to be perfect.
I could go on and on. Because I believe this principle applies to so many arenas of our lives. I’ll give you that there are exceptions: we need our parachutes to be perfect. We need engineers to be flawless with their calculations when building our bridges. Obviously there’s a place for getting it absolutely right . But when it comes to behavior and habits, maybe it’s not as important to be 100%. “I’m getting there,” “I’m stronger than I used to be,” “Our relationship is improving,” “At least I took a walk today,” “I’ll start with one class.” These are healthy and hopeful assurances that allow us to simply be better than we were yesterday, reminding us that small but consistent habits will yield better returns than (admittedly admirable) major efforts that aren’t sustained.
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