I’ve spent the first weeks of the 2017 dwelling on my word for the year, peace.  I’ve been letting it settle into the crevices of my soul, I’ve thought about how I can bring it into existence in my world, about what I need to do to find shalom.  I’ve observed and made mental notes, recategorized my priorities, and tried to shut out the noise of the world.

And what I’ve discovered is that I don’t need to add anything, I need to let things go.  I need to make space in my life for peace to exist, because it’s quite simply been crowded out.  It has no room to breathe, to grow, to flourish.  It is cowering in a corner somewhere, waiting to be invited back in.

I grew up in the age of monthly magazines.  I loved them then and I still love them, just like I still read traditional books rather than on a tablet.  I love the feeling, the act of turning pages, being able to highlight, take notes,  dog-ear pages, tear them out and tuck them away for future reference.

When my children were young I subscribed to several parenting magazines, the kind that offered ideas on party planning, play dates, and crafts.  It was so exciting to get each new issue and plan out what activities I would do with them each month, but looking back I can see that there was a sense of not-enoughness in it.  A sense of failure if my life didn’t match the glossy pictures of perfect homes.

But it was only once a month, and there was only my family and a handful of friends to whom I could really compare myself, so reality and relationships usually won out over the manufactured perfection in the magazines.

Fast forward 15-20 years.  I am bombarded daily with what I should  be as a parent, a wife, a woman, a homemaker, a human.  My devices are filled with articles that promise these five (or nine, or twelve, or two) things will change my life (or marriage, or body, or soul).  If I only do this, eat this, take this, think this, be this, then surely I will be shiny and bright and all the pieces of my life will fall into place.

I’ve made lists of everything I should do each day to be sure that I am worthy the very best version of me that I can be.  I think at one point that list was up to 28 tasks, 28 things I must do every day to be sure I was not falling behind in winning at life. And I can guarantee you that most of those days I was frantically going trying to tick off boxes rather than living a full, authentic life.

A couple of weeks ago I started yet another book on how to not only transform my life, but to make my mornings miraculous.  I mean, who doesn’t want miracles in the morning?  The book used an acronym for six things you must do each day upon waking to make sure the rest of your day went the way of water to wine.

But wait, there’s more….

The author also instructs you on how to live a Level Ten Life.  I mean, who doesn’t want that?  Who doesn’t want six steps and ten levels to an ideal life?

Me.

I don’t want that.

I don’t want perfection.  I’ve tried to get there.  Not only is it impossible, it’s exhausting.  I don’t have the energy.  I can’t do all the things.

What if I’m content with my slow, quiet mornings and life that hovers closer to a 7 than a 10?  What if my shifting middle-aged body, imperfect marriage, cluttered closets, and unmanicured lawn are perfectly suited to my way of being?

What if I’m not striving for the best life, but the okay-est life?  What if that’s enough for me?

We live in an age of superlatives, always striving to be the -est at everything:  fittest, strongest, prettiest, smartest, kindest, funniest, youngest looking. Most creative, best home, best children, best marriage, best wardrobe, most well read. Volunteers the most, gets the most likes and comments, goes on the best vacations, finds the best deals, has the best life.

Well, I’m walking away from the game.  I’m making room for peace.  

I took a step in that direction about two weeks ago when I decided I would not click on any link that had a number in the title.  You know the ones, they promise five ways to transform your abs or seven foods that will clear your brain fog and cure migraines, or nine things happy couples do every day.

I started scrolling right past them, because I’m striving for peace not perfection.  I can’t take on any more expectations.  They’ve become too heavy, too burdensome. They weigh me down and keep me stuck.  I don’t need another list of tasks, I need shalom.  

If you’ve read this far and are waiting for the five reasons I hinted at in the title, this is the part where I break the news that I’m not giving them, because I’m not here to tell you what you should do, much less why you should do it.  I’m here to tell you to go and chase down your ideal, find your peaceful place, your shalom.

For me, I’m focusing on the having the World’s Okay-est Life.  Because quite frankly, that’s good enough for me.