Perfect Not Perfect

I.
In prayer for a friend,
The pain proved too insurmountable.
I think it will not always,
But for now there was a pause.

But this is not her story.
This is mine.

I did not feel regret or concern.
It is not my responsibility.
Such an obvious statement,
And yet … I want to be perfect.

To feel peace that I am not …
That is a part of my story yet unlived.

II.
In prayer for me,
I thought about third grade Amy,
Sobbing because the star for my construction paper
Christmas tree would not have five even points.
Maybe it had six, or maybe the five were uneven.
I don’t remember. But it would not come right.

But I remember the shame of crying in class
And children whispering about it.
I remember Mrs. Grosser’s gentleness as she said,
“Oh, honey. It’s okay. Go wash your face.”
And I went and washed and my face felt better,
But the tree was ruined, and the day was ruined,

And I cannot be perfect and have never been perfect,
But I wanted to be and I wasn’t.

Looking back, I want to tell that child:
Be gentle with yourself, sweet girl.

And I pictured Jesus, as he blessed the children,
Picking up little Amy, and holding me gently on his lap,
And I was just with him. And he held me,
In all my imperfection,
And loved me.