Many of us record our memories in photo form, whether on a computer screen or on paper. Do you perform this job with your husband or children in mind? Do you take on the role of Chief Photographer and Recorder of Memories? Do you take it as it comes, snapping a photograph quickly and hoping for the best? Or, do you do as I did, aching for "just the right moment" and trying to set the scene to capture it?
When it comes down to daily life, special events and everything in between, a woman can, in effect, take her husband and family hostage, creatively forcing her loved ones along a path that leads to her own version of Picture Perfect.
I can speak from the sad, stressful experience of it. You don't always know you suffer from it until you learn to stop doing it, or see through someone else's eyes what your desire for Picture Perfect really looks like.
Quality Control and How It Overrides Life
In marriage, Quality Control occurs when a spouse has a specific, unyielding vision for outcomes in any area of life.
A wife embarks on a road to Quality Control when she has visions of sugarplums dancing in her head and desires to create them in real life (Tweet). Perfectionistic views of the sugarplums bring about a one-way mindset, allowing the Quality Control "expert" (QC) only one way of seeing how this piece of life may play out in reality.
Then, manipulation begins, which the QC sees as facilitating. Helping, guiding, nurturing, and believing she works for the good of everyone. Truly, truly believing it. She makes detailed plans, often only in her head, from start to finish. She doesn't ask for help, she doesn't team with her husband to engage his help as she should. She forges a path and drags everyone else along to the end. To her goal.
Our real-world sugarplums that drive us to Picture Perfect often show as birthday parties, holiday celebrations, baking or cooking together, vacations, play dates, school projects, home-improvement projects/decor, or even just a walk in the park. Rather than enjoy the moments and revel in the family time or the simplicity and smiles, we often feel driven to improve it, direct it, make it ... ugh ... perfect.
Armed with Love and Taking Hostages
Quality Control, as I have experienced it, begins with a driving force of love and caring, and with a deep desire to show these feelings by using a vehicle in the form of a special event or daily activity. Once I chose my vehicle, for instance, dying Easter eggs with our children, I could envision the outcome and build an itinerary to get to it.
I prepared my hard-cooked eggs, divided them in two even amounts, placed the cups to contain the dye and all the utensils and ingredients neatly on the table, and then called the kids to join me. They squealed, laughed, jumped for joy, and climbed into chairs to start having fun.
And I stopped the fun in order to explain how to dye the eggs carefully (perfectly), how not to "plunk" them into the cups to keep them whole (perfect) and to not splash the dye (perfect). My children helped mix the color tablets, holding measuring spoons of vinegar and pouring in water, their excitement bubbling just like the magical tablets breaking down in the water baths, waiting for the chance to make pretty-colored eggs.
It's a wonder I didn't permanently crack their self-esteem and their desire to bother at all, but our children soldiered on, determined to move forward toward joy no matter how I steered around it. I viewed splashes and cracks as potholes and speed bumps in the roadway, working to miss those areas and aim straight for the smooth pavement that would yield, of course, Picture Perfect results.
My desire to create the perfect event for my children's enjoyment happened by way of commandeering the event from start to finish, prodding and pulling the activity in the directions that, from a visual perspective, brought Picture Perfect: beautiful eggs, a work space deemed neat enough to host picture-taking, and children smiling in pride over their creations.
The ends do not justify the means.
Now, when I look at past years' photos, I sometimes wish for a lot more mess and mayhem.
My vision never fully played out in any of our activities. With all the energy I put into setting everything up, I changed only a pixel here or there in the Big Picture. But the effort? Oh, the effort. Heroic effort. And for what?
I didn't do so much for my children, as I did focusing on getting them to perform for me to meet my goal.
Take a Look in the Rearview Mirror
Every Quality Control expert operates on a closed track, so to speak. When a woman shifts into gear for creating that Picture Perfect outcome, she does not pay attention to the onlookers. She maintains a forward view to get to the finish line. Looking in the rearview mirror only shows where the competition stands, right?
Oh, yeah. My husband is back there.
I have often seen husbands straggling along, lagging behind the family group at events and celebrations, and I have seen it in daily life. In my own life. I have seen my husband as the straggler, the lagger, the disinterested one. Really, though, I couldn't actually see him, not when I double-timed it out front, keeping the family motor humming. The man kept squeaking his wheel, and rather than grease it, I ignored it so as not to delay the schedule.
Do you know what I thought he needed? Encouragement. Encouragement to step on the gas and catch up to me. The more I encouraged, the more he let up on the gas pedal. More encouragement began to look like cheerleading, and that made him step on the brake.
Gas pedal? Brake? We were in separate cars? I had no idea until all the smoke and haze cleared at the end of a long circuit of racing.
Was the man attempting to create a hazard in the road with this behavior? In my way of thinking at the time, yes, he was. He appeared as a speed bump on the road to my goal.
I couldn't figure him out, couldn't encourage him enough, couldn't manage to talk him into joining me in my efforts, couldn't get him to see my vision.
A woman on the track to Picture Perfect often leaves her husband behind. He does not cheer for her, but resents her solo efforts as he spits out the dust she leaves as she peels out toward the finish line.
Our Real Job
We are not on this earth as set dressers or in the driver's seat in a big race to glory for our efforts. What we live is real, and in its own small ways, very meaningful.
This life is about who we touch and how -- with our own lives. It's not about with whom we rub elbows, but to whom we lend a hand. It's not about how our family looks on the surface, but who our family is in their hearts. It's not about smiling for the camera, it's about smiling for and about our Creator. The Big Picture involves our service to the world around us, and that includes our husbands, children, family, friends and everyone we meet.
We can serve them with something big that they need. We can also serve them -- touch their hearts -- with a smile.
“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ ~Matthew 25:40
With God's spirit shining through us, what we deliver -- how we serve others -- is Picture Perfect. Our deeds for Christ will go into God's collection. That's where our focus should lie every day.
When it comes to reaching out to others, what does your day look like?
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