The Girl You Should Expect Mistakes From

I was a tiny elementary schooler with a long, swinging ponytail. My classmates said I smiled a lot.
  
Every Friday my third grade class took a weekly science test. The school year had just started, and I surprised myself with a score of 100 on the first test—the only 100 in the class. I sank down in my seat in embarrassment as classmates whispered to each other, “Misty made a hundred!” 

The next Friday I made 100% again….and the next. But my initial delight and pride turned to anxiety as I thought, “The school year has just started. I CAN’T make 100 on every test this year! Eventually, I’ll probably answer a question wrong. Then what?” I thought in panic. “What will happen then!?” Each week, when my teacher returned our graded tests, I tried in vain to flip my test over to hide the red-inked 100 before my classmates could see it. If they never knew of my perfect grades, I thought, I would never be able to disappoint them. Plus, I felt that my 100's were setting me apart from my classmates, and I didn't want to be set apart. I wanted to be included.
My streak of unbroken scores continued a while longer then---eventually---my fear came true. One day when Ms. Hendrick placed the graded test onto my desk, instead of the usual 100%…Great Job! glowed a red 98%…Great Job! with a red X beside one of the questions.

Before the test was flat on my desk, a girl sitting near me craned her neck and let out a small gasp. “Misty only made a 98!” she whispered to the girl beside her, whose eyes widened as she turned to whisper to the boy beside her, “Misty only made a 98!” Soon my news was all over the classroom while students gazed at me with open mouths, eager to see how I would handle such a disgrace. I swallowed hard and cowered down in my seat in shame, dreading the comments that would surely take place at the lunch table.

I have come far enough past perfectionist tendencies that I sometimes forget how powerfully they once controlled me. But every now and then, I feel the crippling stings again. I hear perfectionism criticizing a song I perform, a piece I write, a mistake from the long-ago past. I see a multitude of imaginary fingers pointing at me, judgment in their voices.

I am most comforted by simply answering those voices with the words,
"Then you don't know me."

If crowds of listeners anticipate that I will ever perform even one song                                                               so flawlessly that it has no room for improvement---

then they don't know me.

If readers believe I ever write one poem, one song, or one blog post                                                           and feel absolutely certain it needs no more editing---

then they don't know me. 

If my biggest critics act disappointed because                                                                                           "She didn't land on the right chord there! That note was flat.                                                             Don't much care for that song she wrote." Once again---

they don't know me.

If they did....they would know that:

• I don't make 100%'s all the time. I don't even make 98's all the time. Or 80's, 70's, 60's....
• I am not a continuous stream of overflowing self-confidence. At times, I just feel weak and doubtful, not even sure that I have enough strength left to try.
• I make an abundance of mistakes and errors. On-stage. Off-stage.

And I will never please everybody.

Yes, I'm passionate about a lot of pursuits that I don't even feel especially talented at. But since I feel that God continues to nudge me in those directions anyway, I keep pressing forward, mistakes and all.

I am The Girl You Should Expect Mistakes From.

Don't be surprised. Don't act shocked or cover your mouths in horror. 

No need to shake your heads in disappointment. 

See that innocent-looking little girl in the picture? She couldn't be a streak of straight 100's. Neither can I.

I am not an expert at anything, except continuing to learn and grow and offer my meager best.

I no longer chase down perfection, and I can save you time---you won't find it in me either.

Expect Mistakes Here.