Yesterday I wrote about cleaning the garage. We actually didn't clean the entire garage. We cleaned a portion of it.
"Well, it's not perfect," I said to my husband, "but it's better than it was."
"Maybe that's the way it is with us," he replied. "We're not perfect, but we're better than we were."
It was a trivial conversation, but his words remained with me. No, I'm not perfect (far from it). But I'm better (I hope) than I was. I have more compassion than I once had. I have more understanding of my frailities and weaknesses and, with that understanding, more patience with those frailities and weaknesses of others.
Joy for the day: being better than I was.