Perfectly Imperfect

Allowing The Light in

Ann Litts
Queen’s Children

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I have a touch of OCD. It’s mostly not a bad thing — because really — everyone should WANT their OR nurse to be a bit on the compulsive side of the equation. And for over twenty-five years, my drive to do everything just so served me well in my career.

Not so much in my personal life, however. Because Life is Imperfect. Perfectly Imperfect in fact.

As I look back on All. The. Things. I stressed over — All. The. Energy. I expended attempting to get everything ‘right’ — I can laugh. The Universe — it seemed — always had other plans for me.

Her’s was a lesson repeated over and over in My Life.

“Let go” — She’d whisper as I struggled and clung to My Expectations of Perfection.

“You might be wrong” — She suggested as I gathered up my self-righteousness and snuggled into my judgments.

“You only need to exist” — She cooed as I tried over and over again to Be Worthy — of Love, of success, of any good thing in My Life.

And then at Her wit’s end — one day She sent me Leonard Cohen to explain it in a language I could understand — through his music.

I still have my moments where I think I could have done more, better, brighter — whatever the effort might have entailed. But then I…

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