There Are No Perfect Families
Words by Ashley Setterlind
I think Norman Rockwell lied.
We’ve all seen the famous 1943 painting of an American family surrounding a long Thanksgiving table, with beaming smiles on the faces of every person both young and old. Appropriately named Freedom From Want, the artwork reveals an unspoken desire in every human heart: the dream of a perfect family, with a bountiful feast on a lavish table in a cozy home, and joyful celebration over being together.
Like I said before, I think it’s a lie. Idealistic, at best.
There are no perfect families. There’s always something, right? That one weird relative who just doesn’t fit in, that other family member who always tries to stir the pot, and a host of underlying disagreements, disappointments, and betrayals—major and minor. Honestly, most of us would probably agree that our families look a lot more like a scene out of National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (1989) than the one Norman Rockwell created.
And yet, we ache for that easy, comfortable, happy, full table, don’t we? The one where everyone gets along, does their part, and passes the turkey correctly. But when our reality doesn’t match up with our expectations, it hurts. Sometimes hearts break. Sometimes we have to let particular dreams die. Sometimes someone leaves. Sometimes people fight. Sometimes they make up quickly. Sometimes rifts remain and suffering lingers long.
Relationships are tricky like that. You can’t take a “one size fits all” approach.
Neither can you take a “one size fits all” approach with puzzles.
When they’re complete, with all of the pieces aligned, puzzles make lovely pictures. While in progress, they’re confusing, frustrating, and provide ample opportunities to practice patience. And then, there’s that horrible feeling when you think you’ve finished, only to realize one piece is missing. You can’t find it anywhere; the sadness, anger, and defeat you feel comes crashing down in a single moment.
The thing about putting together puzzles, or families, though, is that there’s not just one “right” way to do it. You can work from the outside edges in, start in a corner, or just plop random blobs of color or patterns together until something forming starts to make sense. Conflict resolution is similar. There are many different methods; often the same goal.
My two-year-old daughter helped me realize this the other day while we were working on a new puzzle/matching game she was given. She is extremely smart for her age, especially when it comes to language development, which I like to think she inherited from me (haha). Another thing she also seems to have (unfortunately) inherited from me is a stubborn, perfectionistic nature. Like me, she is often wary of trying new things that she’s not positive she will get right the very first time. That’s what happened with this puzzle.
My girl quickly picked up the correct two matching pieces that would form one larger piece, but as she tried to connect them, she had a little trouble. We were playing on carpet instead of a hard surface, which can sometimes make puzzles trickier. When she thought she was putting the puzzle together incorrectly, she became visibly frustrated. Exasperated, she threw her hands up and exclaimed, “I can’t do it, Mommy!” She wanted to give up and quit.
The thing is, she did have her pieces in the right place. She was simply pushing them too hard. They squished into the carpet and became misaligned. When she tried to put them together, the pieces kept sticking to her hands.
I encouraged her, “Baby, you’re doing it the right way! Let’s just try to press more gently.”
The Holy Spirit of God spoke to me in that moment and said, “My child, you need to do the same thing. You’ve got the right pieces in the right places, but you’re pushing too hard. They are sticking to your hands. Let go. Be more gentle, and maybe you’ll find the puzzle of your family whole once again.”
There is satisfaction in surrender.
Freedom in forgiveness.
Mercy in meekness.
And there is no restoration without rest.
I don’t have all the answers. As much as he tried to paint it that way, I don’t think Norman Rockwell did either. I’m not sure how to solve my puzzle just yet, and maybe you don’t know how to solve yours. But here’s what I do know:
In a puzzle, all the pieces are designed to fit. With specific colors, shapes, sizes, and edges, each piece has a unique, individual purpose. They can be put back together. They can be solved.
Maybe it helps the most when we step back, take a breath, and stop pushing so hard.
About the Author:
Ashley Setterlind is a follower of Jesus, a pastor's wife, and mama of two! She is passionate about living to display the glory of God in the midst of mundane moments. She's a fierce Chick-fil-A addict, and loves the feeling of cracking open a new book. You can find her on Instagram at @ashleysetterlind and encouraging other mamas in their journey at @deeplyrootedmotherhood.
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