Mrs. Perfection woke up precisely at 5:45am, as was her daily custom, and silenced her analog alarm clock. LED lights create bad sleeping habits, you know.
She drank one 12oz cup of coffee as instructed by her doctor, not a sip more, and ate a perfectly balanced breakfast. Not too much cholesterol, not too little protein.
She successfully completed thirty minutes of yoga, fifteen minutes of journaling, and ten minutes of scheduling before two sets of tiny feet pitter-pattered down the stairs.
Her children slurped their bowls of steel cut oats and drank hand squeezed orange juice at the seasonally coordinated kitchen table. Speaking of, they would have to visit the Farmer’s Market to purchase more oranges soon. She sent her CEO husband off to work with a kiss for now, and a knowing look for later. Their romance hadn’t so much as buckled after ten years and two children.
Breakfast consumed and cleared away, not that her children were terribly messy, Tuesday commenced.
Morning playtime and cuddles until ten. Not a smartphone in sight, Mrs. Perfection was perfectly discipled to focus entirely on her children. At ten-thirty, the trio walked down the block for their weekly playgroup. Mrs. Perfection placed her homemade gluten free muffins on the counter, a small token of hospitality. Mrs. Perfection never so much as raised her voice to the toddlers, and had only kind words to say to the mothers.
After playgroup came errands and after errands came naptime and after naptime came chores. Clockwork. Husband home from work at fifteen minutes past five, why would he want to linger at the office? Dinner served at half past six, delicious and nutritional. The children soaked up their baths and bedtime stories. Kisses goodnight from mom and dad, then mom and dad shared kisses of their own.
Mrs. Perfection laid her head on goose down pillows and fell asleep.
The next morning, Mrs. Perfection was perfectly dead.
My temptation is to believe that a perfectly ordered life is automatically a fulfilling one. Despite my often-felt frustration over not having a life that looks like Mrs. Perfection’s, I must remember that a meaningful life isn’t created in well-followed routines, no matter how lovely they look. Rather, a meaningful life is one that derives its meaning from Christ. I‘ve been reading Make It Happen by Lara Casey with The Influence Network book club. If you want to learn more about living on purpose, I invite you to grab a copy! Make it Happen: Surrender Your Fear. Take the Leap. Live On Purpose* is available wherever fine books are sold.)
Stock Photo via Lillie from Redeeming Love Photography
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