Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Good. Better. Best.

There’s rumblings and tumblings

Kingdoms conquered and sought

Grace whispers ardent mumblings

Begging weapons down…all’s fought.

 

Victory in years past

Once named valedictorian

Battle won but not the last

Held now only by historian.

 

‘Good. Better. Best.

Never Let it Rest

Till Your good is Better

And Your Better is Best.’

 

How did humble Papa know

The whip that would drive

All hours’ study by lamp’s dim glow

And beat in heart keeping alive?

 

Days turned years perfection held all

In vice grip tensing smiles

Chasing a running girl wanting to fall

And fail and be held all the while.

 

I still feel knees touching dorm floor

And weeping surrendered one

Low before a Saviour known in core

Ah… this is Victory come.

 

And so when addictive tendencies

To that hard master Perfection

Loom large and command dependencies

Stealing Grace’s life-giving intention

 

I recall not twelve but one step

Only to kneel before Truly Perfect

Brought low giving all unto death

He is my Good. Better. and Best.

AWA  1/9/2011

I wanted to clarify, because you know, that’s what we Perfectionist’s do…well, it’s also to represent my Papa correctly.  He did not say this poem ‘Good. Better. Best.’  as a parenting mantra.  He is probably the most Grace-giving Love-you-as-you-are person I know with the softest of hearts.  He said this poem to me and me only of my five siblings.  It was like he really did see that I had the wiring of a perfectionist and this was how I went about things.  So, it was as much an observation as anything, if that makes sense.  And he said it long before ‘valedictorian’ days when I would bring any ardent meaning to it. 

This was written about one of my ‘edges’—Perfectionism for The High Calling’s Random Acts of Poetry.

Also going to share with sweet fellow imperfect friends at Emily’s

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and just linked this up to my sweet friend Tiffini’s, Word Women Wednesdays


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