It can’t be perfect. . .

I accomplished more today than I thought I would but also less than I could have. Daylight is dimming as nightfall nears so I must turn my sewing machine off. I’m in a mood to keep going but I don’t like to strain my eyes.

I was able to work on the cow quilt as well as the cat quilt. I’ve learned the most difficult aspect for me is how impossible it is to be perfect. I can have chaos all around me, such as a wildly overgrown lawn desperately in need of mowing, piled up dishes and a mini mountain of laundry, and it doesn’t really faze me. I go with the flow. But when it comes to sewing a quilt, painting someone’s living room or making a set of wooden, cube shelves for my niece, I strive for perfection. I must achieve it. It bothers me to no end when I don’t.

And then I realized one day that the nature of homemade is quite simply imperfection. Sew as slow and as straight as I can. It’s STILL not going to be perfect. Pin and repin in an attempt for precise alignment. It’s STILL not going to be perfect. It’s hard to accept and I wonder why anyone would purchase a quilt from me. Until I remind myself that homemade is a creation brought to life by a human being, not machines in a factory. It can’t be perfect. And most people are not as picky as I am, they won’t see the “flaws” that jump out at me.

I’m getting better at understanding this 🙂

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2 thoughts on “It can’t be perfect. . .

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