By Dr. James Snyder
People often say nobody is perfect. I’ve said that at least 100 times, but there are times when I am not quite sure that it applies to me.
There are some situations when I think I am perfect. I do not say it aloud because I do not want to step on anybody’s toes. But I believe I am perfect, I keep believing it, and then reality hits like a pie in my face.
When I think I am perfect, I reach a stage so imperfect that I am ashamed. I work hard at trying to be perfect. My goal I have in life is to do things perfectly. Up until now, I have not reached my goal, but I’ve come close
I like to be around people who think they are perfect. It is easy to trip them up in what they believe about themselves
To be truthful, the only person I know who is perfect is The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage. I have known her for over 55 years, and if she is not perfect, she has put up a good face for all those years
She knows how to fix anything and everything
I will never forget when the front bumper of my truck broke. I was going to take it to the garage to have them fix it, but as I was looking at the bumper, The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage came out of the house and said, “What’s the problem with your truck?”
Really, I didn’t want to tell her, but what’s a husband to do? I looked at her and said, “The front bumper of my truck is broken and I’m going to have to take it into the garage to get fixed.”
“No,” she said, “let me look at it before you take it to the garage. Maybe it’s something I can fix.”
I chuckled because that was a big job to fix.
She looked at it for a moment and then said, “Okay, I see what’s wrong and I think I can fix this. Let me go to my craft room and get something I think might work.”
She went into the house and, within a few moments, came out with several of those large paperclips. She went over to the bumper and began working on it, and within a few moments, she said, “Okay, I think I fixed the bumper, you don’t have to spend any of your money taking it to the garage.”
Looking at me with one of her smiles, she said, “You’re welcome.” Then she walked back into the house.
I didn’t quite get what she said, but I looked, and there were a bunch of those large paperclips holding the bumper to the truck. To this day, I do not know how she came up with that idea.
That was about five years ago, and those paperclips are still holding my bumper to the truck. Who would have guessed?
She does have a flair for fixing anything and everything. If you could see in her craft room, you would see what I’m talking about. If it is broken, she can fix it. If she can’t fix it, it’s not broken.
With that in mind, I have concluded, after all these years, that she is as close to being perfect as anyone I know.
The only difference is that she likes broccoli and I hate broccoli, and I like Apple Fritters, and she hates Apple Fritters. All those years, this has been the only problem we have.
Occasionally, she will cook broccoli for supper, but makes sure it does not come anywhere near my plate. I know when she’s cooking broccoli because I can smell it, and I do not like that smell.
The other night at suppertime, she brought me my supper plate, then went out and got one for herself, and came back. We sat in the room and enjoyed our supper together while watching TV.
I saw something on my plate that puzzled me. It was something green. I did not pay too much attention because the rest of the plate was very delicious. However, I could not help but look at that little green thing. It looked like a leaf of some sort, but it was so small.
As I looked at it, sighed very deeply and said to myself, “Oh, no, it is not that!”
I looked at it, picked it up with my fork, and it was exactly what I thought it was. I called the attention of The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage, showed it to her, and said, “Can you explain this for me?”
She gasped for a moment, looked at the little green thing on my fork, and sighed very deeply, “Oh, no, it isn’t.” She looked at it a little more and said, “I’m so sorry, it is a piece of broccoli.”
I could not believe it, but as I looked at it, I had to agree with her. This is the one time that I can remember when she was not perfect.
Thinking along this line, I remembered a Bible verse about this. “Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect” (Matthew 5:48).
I cannot be perfect from the human standpoint, but I can achieve perfection in the spiritual realm. The pattern of my perfection is not anything in this world, but according to God’s aspiration for me.
Dr. James L. Snyder lives in Ocala, FL with the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage. Telephone 1-352-216-3025, e-mail jamessnyder51@gmail.com, website www.jamessnyderministries.com.
