The Perfectionists: A Club with Many Miserable Members

On a Saturday evening in autumn, I drove to a nearby city to attend a broadcast of the General Relief Society Meeting with my mother. The spirit of the messages and music left me with a softened heart and a desire to do better, and as I drove home afterward my mind began processing what I had heard and felt. As is usually the case with me, my desire to be a more righteous woman led to thoughts of perfection, inevitably leading to discouragement for a mere mortal gal such as myself.


As my car whizzed along the freeway, my eye caught briefly on the words of a billboard: “Serious about perfection.” I didn’t quite catch what the sign was advertising, but the phrase I saw lodged itself in my mind, and I pondered it repeatedly over the next few days, asking myself, “Am I serious about perfection?”

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