A couple of weeks ago our family and friends gathered to give our daughter Meredith a bridal shower. We had the entire first floor of the Asa Waters mansion in Millbury, MA for the event. Tables were set up in the gracious hall, food was served in the elegant dining room, and drinks were offered in an adjoining room. Gifts were displayed on the winding staircase.
The theme of the shower was Harry Potter, brilliantly executed by Meredith’s matron of honor, Roxanne, and her bridesmaids. For our entertainment there were games and a photo booth with a glittery gold backdrop; masks were provided to don for comical photos, many of which were posted on Facebook pages.
Meredith and her fiance Jimmy opened the many gifts and were overwhelmed by the generosity and thoughtfulness of their family and friends.
The whole affair was perfection. All I wanted to do when it was over was to relive the day again and again.
Yet I had an odd reaction of sadness after the shower. It felt very similar to the days when both the children moved out of the house for good, leaving a void that would never again be filled. As on those days, I went to Meredith’s room and had a good cry.
In reflecting upon those emotions I thought about other momentous occasions in my children’s lives. The day they were born. Their first day in kindergarten. School plays. Graduation from high school, and then college. Meredith’s engagement. Important days, to be sure. And yet none of those days conjured up the sadness and yearning I felt after the bridal shower. Why was that?
Perfection in life is rare, one might even say impossible. You recognize it when you are living in a perfect moment and you know it is something that will never happen again. It is fleeting; it cannot be held onto or possessed. It is to be lived only to slip away out of our grasp. We are left with the shadow of a fading memory.
And it occurred to me that I was mourning the loss of perfection. For three hours I was able to experience it, only to have it end. Things of this world are temporary; everything decays and dies.
I began to wonder how Adam and Eve felt after leaving the Garden of Eden—did they mourn their loss of perfection? During His time on earth, did Jesus long for home? Did He too experience times of melancholy and yearning, remembering his existence of perfection?
We were meant for perfection; created in the Garden of Eden we were destined to live in sublime harmony with our Heavenly Father. Somewhere along the way we were misled into thinking perfection meant being God rather than being with God.
And now we are left with the shadow of the memory of perfection. And once in a great while, we taste it, reminding us perhaps of we had lost in our arrogance. We mourn the loss, we hunger for home, we yearn for what we were meant to be.
The words of St. Augustine are true: “Our hearts are restless until they rest in you.”
Meredith’s bridal shower was a gift of grace, a moment to remind me of what perfection can be like. And why it is worth enduring life’s trials in faith to reach that final goal of perfection—the reunion with God which will last for all eternity. Only then will our restless hearts be satisfied.
Copyright 2017 Susan Bailey