Several years ago, I was sitting in a hot and stuffy classroom where Brother Mullen was giving a Sunday school lesson on teacher improvement.  We talked about different ways to involve and love those we teach, how to ask thoughtful questions that promote meaningful discussions and most importantly how to invite the spirit into our class to testify of truth.  Then, almost cavalierly, he said something that I will never forget,  

“Just remember – you can’t hit a homerun every day!”

I know I have been taught some variation of that principle several times throughout my life, but for some reason, in that moment it completely hit home (lol – baseball pun).

Honestly – he’s right!  I’m sure in the setting of a teacher development class, he was trying to reassure us that there will be times when you teach a really great lesson where the class members are engaged and everything goes according to plan . . . times when you hit a home run!  But there will also be many times when nothing goes according to plan!  The discussion gets way off topic, you feel like no one is listening or primary children are literally bouncing off the walls . . . so do not get discouraged because,

you can’t hit a homerun every day!

I have repeated these words to myself many times over the years.  Some days as a wife and mother I feel like I just hit it out of the park!  Then there are days (more often than not) that I just keep striking out with foul ball after foul ball. 

I often find myself feeling frustrated with the paradigm of conflicting emotions that battle within me.  On one hand, I know that there must be opposition to all things.  That righteousness, holiness and joy cannot exist without wickedness, misery and pain.  I know that we are not meant to be perfect and that as human beings we will always fall short. 

I know that we can’t hit a homerun everyday.    

However, I also suffer from a perfectionism complex and often feel discouraged, disappointed and even angry when I fail to meet my daily “homerun quota”.  As though life could be diluted to a mere checklist of things to do.  I place so much value in accomplishment that I often feel weighed down by the unrealistic expectations that I place on myself and others.  Most days I find myself succeeding in one area of my life and lacking in another and instead of celebrating my triumphs, I dwell on my failures.  Why do I do this?

I feel like this is one of the greatest tools the adversary uses to distract and discourage me that results in either pride or pessimism. 

He convinces me that if I decorate holiday cookies with my children, make healthy and delicious homemade meals, exercise daily and have a perfectly clean house  – then I am winning at life . . . homerun, homerun, homerun.  I’m so amazing – pride!

On the same token, I allow his lies to prove me a failure when our family has eaten grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner (three nights in a row), when I forget about the field trip forms and book fair emails my kids have been pestering me about all week and when I stay up late watching TV because it’s the only thing I have energy to do – but then I’m tired in the morning and the cycle repeats . . . strike one, strike two, strike three!  You are the worst – pessimism!

The thing is – we are not meant to hit a homerun every day.  We are meant to experience loss, pain, sorrow and discouragement.  I do not watch a lot of baseball – but I do know that it would be a pretty boring and predictable, even pointless game if every player that stepped up to the plate hit a perfect homerun every single time.  That’s just not what the game is about.  Nor is life.   

I had an experience a few weeks ago as our family celebrated thanksgiving that reiterated this principle to me.  It was a beautiful fall day when we walked up the front steps to my parent’s house.  The table was set with my mother’s country rose china and the aroma of apple pies, turkey and buttery stuffing filled their home. I know a lot of people probably say this, but no one can make a thanksgiving dinner quite like my mom can! 

We were all excited to get together, play games, snuggle babies and of course – eat delicious food! In addition to fifty percent of the people and ninety percent of the noise, I was asked to bring the buns.

I got up on Monday morning, donned my apron and began to channel my inner Martha.  I have never doubled my recipe (and I’m too scared to try in case it doesn’t work), so I have just got into the habit of making two batches back-to-back.  I combined the sugar with the yeast and added the warm water.  It started to bubble.  Then came the flour and a little bit of salt.  I mixed everything together and as I began to knead the dough on my dusted countertop, I could tell right away it was the perfect consistency.  I placed it in a bowl to rise, then began to work on batch number two.  In a perfectly clean bowl, I followed all the same steps listed above.  Almost immediately, I knew something was wrong.  As soon as I pulled the dough from my mixing bowl, it felt dense, tough and dry.  What happened?!  I convinced myself that it was fine and I began to knead.  

I’m not sure why I didn’t just throw in the towel with batch number two at this point.  No amount of kneading and wishful thinking was going to turn this dough into anything edible.  But I was feeling crunched for time, and so fueled by determination and/or stubbornness I carried on – rolling 20 little buns out of what felt more like salt clay than bread dough!  

I baked the first batch and they came out perfect!  I brushed a little melted butter on the top and it was all I could do to not eat half of them right then and there – you know, for quality assurance.  Then it was time for the second batch to go into the oven.  The dough had still not risen at all, but I was certain that somehow they were going to turn out.  The timer went and I opened my oven door to discover 20 little white balls that looked exactly like they did when I put them in.  They hadn’t risen or browned at all and honestly looked disgusting!

What happened? Two totally different results from the same execution of instructions. The time was quickly approaching for our family to leave, and I was still standing in my kitchen wearing pyjamas and rocking a two day old messy bun – so I decided to just call it a day.  

One homerun followed by a major fly ball. 

With my hair full of dry shampoo and armed with one tray of buns – we headed over to my parent’s house.  Upon arriving I explained my plight to my mom who lovingly assured me that everyone would be happy with just one bun.  “Sure”, I thought, “who doesn’t love being given a ration of 1.4 buns per person for thanksgiving dinner.”  I felt bad – she had done everything else and in my mind it was a very “you had one job” kind of a moment for me.  I focused on my failure instead of my success. 

We all sat down to eat and at the end of the day, as you can guess, there was so much food that it really didn’t matter how many buns we had.  We were all happy and so full!  

Isn’t that how it is with the Savior.  He invites us to a heavenly feast and all he asks is for us to bring one tray of buns or five loaves and two fishes. All he asks for is our effort (whatever that may look like).  And we will never leave hungry.    

I love these words by Vern P. Stanfill, “It is often a temptation in our world . . . to obsess about perfection. Social media, unrealistic expectations, and often our own self-criticism create feelings of inadequacy – that we are not good enough and never will be. Some even misunderstand the invitation of the Savior to “be ye therefore perfect.” Remember that perfectionism is not the same as being perfected in Christ.  Perfectionism requires an impossible, self-inflicted standard that compares us to others . . . becoming perfected in Christ is another matter. It is the process . . . of becoming more like the Savior.”

This is such valuable wisdom and has caused me to consider more deeply how I view my daily highs and lows.  It is not that the Lord doesn’t want us to succeed. He is our greatest champion cheering us on to the final play of the ninth inning. 

He wants us to win. 

He wants us to hit a homerun.

He wants us to run home – to him!

He also knows that we cannot do it alone.  He knows we will strike out and drop the ball more times than we can count.  But as we rely on him and keep our covenants, his promises are sure. 

He will not leave us comfortless. 

He will know how to succor us. 

He will prepare the way.   

We will never play a perfect game, but with the Savior on our side – we will always win. 

So maybe I have the wrong idea about what it means to hit a homerun.  It doesn’t mean that life is perfect.  And it doesn’t mean I am valued any less when I strike out.  My homeruns can be small but meaningful victories that will look different every day; and there will always be room for growth. 

I read my scriptures today – homerun!

I told my children I love them – homerun!

I kept that plant in my bedroom alive another day – homerun!

Remember these words of the prophet Moroni, “Yea, come unto Christ, and be perfected in him . . . and if ye shall deny yourselves of all ungodliness, and love God with all your might, mind and strength, then is his grace sufficient for you, that by his grace ye may be perfect in Christ.”

Elder Stanfill added these words, “We must remember that whatever our best-but-imperfect offering is, the Savior can make it perfect. No matter how insignificant our efforts may seem, we must never underestimate the Savior’s power.”

And so maybe we can in fact hit a homerun every day.

With the Savior on our team we can do all things through Christ which strengthens us. He who lived a perfect life, the only one to never strike out will multiply our meager offering, sanctify our efforts and qualify us – one homerun at a time – to eventually return home.