Bill asked me last weekend if I needed to take a class to learn how to organize our refrigerator. Although the liter of pop stuffed in the meat drawer gave his question credibility, those who know I taught two getting organized workshops last month will find Bill's remark more humorous than helpful.

To my defense, February was a very busy time for me. Developing four hours of presentation material required sacrifices, both in and out of the kitchen. Still, all the hours seemed worth it when I finished the last slide a few nights before my final workshop. As I watched my work glide across the screen to the beat of a favorite song, I felt like Mary Lou Retton when she stuck her landing in the 1984 Olympic games.

It was a moving ending to a monumental project, one I thought my audience would applaud. Unfortunately, this vision underwent a revision when the presentation ran long, forcing some attendees to leave before I got through all of the material. Those who did stay until the end witnessed technical difficulties as the music failed to start on my first two attempts to play the final slideshow. 

If the desires of the diligent are fully satisfied, I wondered as I watched everyone file out of the room, why did my workshop have such an unsatisfactory ending? Lacking an answer, I thought back to what I taught that morning. One phrase came to mind.

“Don’t go for perfect, go for progress.” I had told the group, not realizing that the first person who would need to hear these words would be the one saying them.

Advice is much easier to accept, when it's meant for someone else. I decided, as I packed up my speaking materials and headed for home. 

Still down about how the workshop ended, I received a second dose of self-instruction a few hours later when, while looking through my notebook for ideas on what to write in this month’s newsletter, I came across this sentence, written a few days before my presentation:

“Even at my most exhausted moment, when every ounce of energy is poured into a project that may or may not be well received, I am at peace on the inside because I know that God looks at the intention, not the outcome.”

That's when I understood. I had become so focused on not finishing well, that I refused to celebrate finishing at all. The negative thoughts I warned people about during my workshop had stolen my peace after it was over. 

Thankfully, through workshop evaluation forms, attendees were kind enough to give some of it back. When I mustered the courage to read their feedback, I found that the hardest person to please was, not those attending, but the one presenting.

In his book, Cure for the Common Life, Max Lucado wrote, "The only mistake is not to risk making one." These words are for anyone who misses out for fear of messing up and everyone (myself included) who struggles to celebrate anything less then perfection. Things go wrong and presentations run long. Still, as long as we're doing something to move forward, we're doing that something—just fine. 

A Quote to Grow On

In lieu of a single quote, I am including an excerpt from Max Lucado's latest book, Cure for the Common Life. I purchased my copy from Sam's Club for $11.88 and found it to be a wonderful read. 

“We suffer from poor I-sight. Not eyesight, a matter of distorted vision that lenses can correct, but I-sight. Poor I-sight blurs your view, not of the world, but of yourself." (p. 71)

"Two extremes of poor I-sight. Self-loving and self-loathing. We swing from one side to the other. Promotions and demotions bump us back and forth. One day too high on self, the next too hard on self. Neither is correct. Self-elevation and self-deprecation are equally inaccurate. Where is the truth?

Smack-dab in the middle. Dead center between 'I can do anything' and 'I can't do anything' lies 'I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me' (Phil. 4:13).” (p. 72)

-Max Lucado, Cure for the Common Life.