Present Over Perfect

longer this time! Great job! You’re doing it! But then
inevitably sink, receive the scolding.
The scolding’s the worst part, of course. I should be
used to it, but it stings every time. I know, I know—I’ll try
harder. I’ll focus more. I promise.
And then this gentle priest read the story again, and
again, and again. We listened, exhaled, found ourselves in
the story, practiced the prayer of imagination. Again and
again.
And there in my chair on a summer Sunday evening, I
realized that all my life I’d had the story wrong. I had
twisted it for my own purposes, a practice as old as the hills.
We twist the sacred words to tell our own stories. We do it
with Scripture; we do it in conversation. Whatever you’re
looking for, you’ll find. If you’re looking for stories to
affirm your deep belief in the goodness of humanity, you’ll
find them. If you’re only seeking stories that say the world
is nothing but evil, you’ll find them. And if every story you
hear, every song you sing, every tale you tell is really a
story about shame and about not being good enough, you’ll
find it.
I know this because I’ve been doing it for years. For me,
when someone says, “I can’t come to your house,” I hear,
“You’re not good enough.” When someone says, “That
woman over there is so pretty,” I hear, “You’re not good
enough.” When someone opens his or her mouth to say
almost anything at all, what I hear is “you’re not good
enough.”