The yes is more important than the perfect. That’s what I’m trying to remember these days. These days of bike helmets slung at the entry mat and footprints in path of sunlight and sand from front to back door. Days of more multi-colored, kid plastic-ware than countertop space, but never a clean water bottle to be found when you need one. Days of forever opportunities for welcoming people into our home, our life, our chaos.
Selah Grace is becoming the ambassador of our neighborhood (which I love). She eagerly invites adult neighbors over to celebrate stuffed animal tea parties, and uses any free space in the afternoon to bring other kids over to play. Riding bikes quickly turns into playing in the garage, turns into board games on the living room rug, turns into staying for dinner and a movie. I love this for her and our home. But, it’s easy for me to focus on piles of laundry or the projects strewn across the dining table and want to say “not now”. That we aren’t “ready” for company. Real-life invitations are spontaneous. They don’t wait for perfect and they don’t care about freshly steamed floors or the fact that we haven’t gotten around to dealing with that 60’s paneling on the walls. I want Selah to experience the blessing of community found and forged when you step out with the bravery of invitation.
Instead of stopping her or immediately turning my eyes toward all the mess, I try to move past my immediate fear of my parenting being equated with the (un)togetherness of my house and my desire to show our neighbors a fake perfect. Instead, I try to say yes as much as possible. Yes, even with that sticky spot under the highchair. Yes, even though every couch cushion is in a pile on the floor. Yes. Because the yes is more important than the perfect.