"Not perfect, but better."
It's my new mantra.
The kitchen floor after I've swept it? Not perfect, but better. My manuscript, after I've spent an hour editing it? Not perfect, but better. My relationship with my kids, after I've sat down and read stories with them? Not perfect, but better. My heart, after I've stopped and prayed? Not perfect, but better.
So often I look at the list of things I have to do, and feel defeated before I start. Why bother, if I'm not going to get it all done? More than that: if I'm not going to get it all done and get it done well?
But that's a lie. And despite how depressed it makes me feel, it's a tempting lie. It lets me think, for one thing, that perfection is something within my - mine own, my very, very own - grasp. Uh-huh.
But slowly, slowly, the Lord is helping me learn the truth: it's not my job to be perfect, it's my job to be faithful. Which I can only do with His help.
So, having faith that He can make up my lack, I start. I put in some time. And you know what? Whatever I'm working on usually gets better. Not perfect, but better.
And better ain't bad.