Dumpster Fire

When someone asked me last week how I was doing, I started laughing. Without thinking, I responded with, “My life feels like a dumpster fire”. A statement this blunt seemed to catch her off guard and she wasn’t quite sure how to respond. I immediately felt guilty for making the conversation feel awkward, and inwardly berated myself for being so grotesque. 

However, as the week went on and I continued to ponder my response at that moment, I realized that I was being very honest and truthful. As a perfectionist, I used to manage all of my life’s situations just so. I would keep the balls in perfect order, perfect colour, perfect rhythm; and if something were to throw the balls off, I would quickly restore them to perfection. The problem with this is that when multiple balls began bouncing irregularly or I dropped a ball, it destroyed me. 

In the last year or so, I have switched to what I refer to as the “dumpster fire” approach. I don’t worry about the balls so much. I bounce them as they need bouncing, sub them out when they need subbing out, and let them sit still when they aren’t absolutely necessary. My life often feels like a chaotic mess, especially to my perfectionist mind. But, that being said, every moment of chaos is met with an opportunity to lay another piece of wood on what I consider my offering to my faithful Father. 

When the school calls and tells me that my son beat up another kid at school, I bring my piece of wood to the altar. 

When my marriage feels hostile and anything but “full of love”, another piece of wood gets laid on top. 

When I wrestle with hormone imbalances and feel like I won’t see tomorrow, another piece. And another. And another. 

Every imperfection, every missed ball, every lie spoken in the darkest moments of my life, are laid upon that altar. I don’t try so hard to keep up the jig anymore because an offering to my perfect Father allows me to let go of my need for perfection. Christ already gave His life for the balls I have dropped and will drop. He already paid the price for the sin that weighs so heavily on my heart. He already rose from the grave to restore me to Himself, my imperfections and all. 

So yes, I will respond with complete recklessness when I say that my life feels like a dumpster fire. But in the throes of that dumpster fire is a beautiful offering of imperfections, of sin, of already and not yet, and of fear to my perfect Father who says, “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7). And while it may feel like a chaotic dumpster fire to this perfectionist heart, I know that to my perfect Heavenly Father, it is a burnt offering and a pleasing aroma. May we all bring our imperfections, life’s chaotic moments and discouraging seasons to Him today because He cares so deeply for us.