Sometimes I worry about how my brain works. It just seems to wander off at times. Chasing endless rabbit trails. An idea comes and then runs out of sight around behind that tree down the path a ways.

You never know what I’ll find when I go looking for my mind.

That should be a lyric to a country song.

Sorting through my thoughts is sort of like sorting through a kitchen cabinet that is in need of help. You open the door. You weren’t intending to do anything but get out the Elmer’s glue. The bottle is not visible right at first, so you start moving things. Pulling things down and setting them on the counter.

Before you know it, you’ve reorganized the entire kitchen. You found things you didn’t know you had. You’ve thrown out things that have been hiding in there since Y2K. Three hours later you still haven’t found the Elmer’s glue, but you feel a whole lot better about your life.

This is me.

Anyway, I was cleaning out my mental cabinet this morning and came across an idea. This is not Pulitzer material. You’re not gonna read this and be motivated to change the world. It’s just a thought about how we look at life.

You see, my wedding anniversary was May 6th. I thought about it all week long as the day approached. I wondered if I should do anything special. I could celebrate and remember in some small way. I could go somewhere to occupy my mind so I wouldn’t feel the loss.

But when the day came, I got up, did my routine, and worked out in my shop all day long. I didn’t even think about it being my anniversary until I was talking on the phone with Marion, and she reminded me.

“Today’s your anniversary. How’ya doing?”

I sat there stupefied. There was a long silence. I couldn’t believe that I’d forgotten. For a moment I felt like pond scum. The whole thing embarrassed me a bit. Here I am moving on with my life, which is good. But you’d think the least I could do was to remember one stinking day.

This is where I get around to telling you about my idea.

What if life was perfect?

That’s it. Could be it’s nothing but daydream-foolishness. Might be a waste of time even to think about it. But you might end up cleaning out all your drawers and shelves, reorganizing your entire life, and feeling like a million bucks.

You can thank me later.

If life was perfect, marriage would last forever.

You’d say your vows in your twenties and build a life together well into your 80s or 90s. There would be happy family gatherings for generations to the 10th great-grandchild. The retirement season of life would go off without a hitch. All your plans would come to fruition. And you’d be holding hands in the rocking chairs on the front porch to the very end.

If life was perfect, grass would grow in the shade and always be beautiful.

I just spent enough on brand new sod to support a third world coup. Twenty-five years ago, I had grass. A nice centipede lawn. But I live in the woods. Sunshine is plentiful but it never sets too long in any spot on the ground around my house. Time the sun clears the treetops to warm up my lawn, the shadows from the house begin to take all my sunshine away.

This time I have a new breed of turf that is more shade tolerant. I’ll be hooked to a water hose and lawn sprinkler for a while. And if everything goes perfectly, I won’t have to do this again. Not in my lifetime.

If life was perfect, every mom would be the best mother on earth and would stay around forever.

I got lots of comments on my last column about Mother’s Day. A lot of people seem to think that I had the perfect mama. She was certainly a special woman. You never know everything and every detail about her life. Chances are, she probably wasn’t perfect, but I don’t think I could have asked for a better version of what she gave me.

If they were all perfect, you’d never have to wonder about where things stood between you and her. There’d never be any hurt feelings. Sixteen-year-old daughters would think she’s the smartest person on the planet. Sons would always remember her birthday and keep it holy. There would never be any regrets about things said. She wouldn’t die too early in life, and she would always be there for you.

If life was perfect, houses and cars and ice cream would be free.

You’d have anything you wanted. Money would never get in the way of your dreams. Work would always be fun, and worries would be non-existent. You’d never have to choose between a vacation weekend or getting the car fixed. You’d never have to choose to pay some bills in full and some in part. At 30 years old you’d already have what most people have only after working for forty years to get things done.

If life was perfect, everything would be grand.

The pipes would never leak. The weather would always be exactly what we want. Doctor appointments would always be on time.

Our bodies would never wear out. Bees and wasps would never sting. The common cold would never get us down.

Children would never need training up in the way they should go. Parenthood would never drain our very souls to the bottom of the barrel. Every choice we make would be the right choice.

Everyone would be a true and lifelong friend. Misunderstandings between siblings wouldn’t exist. Forgiveness would be easy, and memories would never be sad.

In a perfect world, death would not rob us. Life would never hold any disappointment. Change would never challenge us because there would be nothing to change.

No cancer. No dementia. No heartache.

No homelessness. No poverty. No hunger.

No bitterness. No fear. No doubts.

Here’s the thing. The way we do life is not perfect. The unexpected and unwanted things in life are never perfect. There is only one Perfect, and He knows every imperfection. He sees every circumstance that comes at us long before we live it. Every hurt, every sorrow, and every grief have their own unknowable purpose.

And somehow, everything that happens to us is a part of His perfect plan. The hardships build character. The disappointments create opportunities. The losses open new doors.

I hate that I forgot that day on my calendar, but I know that I’ll never forget what I had. I will always have those memories. The question is, will I embrace what lies ahead.

The way I see it, for every death there is a life waiting to be discovered. For every memory there is a hope that lies ahead. For every struggle there is a peace which cannot be gained by any other means.

Maybe it’s crazy to want everything to be perfect.

Or maybe, the life we have already is perfect after all.