How terrible is retrospect. Everything is clearer, right? Shoot, I should have made a list before I went to Trader Joe’s; if I had, I would not have bought copious amounts of food, mostly cookies, I do not need. I should have called my friend a little more often. If I had made an effort, we may still have a relationship. That interview would have gone so much more smoothly if I had opened the stupid link to that research paper rather than simply scanning the abstract. I should have given that guy a chance. Humans, by our character, will always make mistakes and form regrets. Ever notice how many songs are composed of repenting lyrics, or how many simply state, “I’m sorry?” We are human so we are not flawless. I find that the extremely annoying aspect of mistakes is that whatever we did seemed right at the time. There is no way we can just get everything right to eliminate the concept of past mistakes altogether. We can make an attempt to be perfect, yet perfection is most definitely unachievable, unless maybe you’re a demigod, but let us admit even Hercules and Gilgamesh had issues. ‘Would haves’ and ‘should haves’ can certainly eat away at our contentment, so why is it that we cannot seem to simply drive those out of our minds? I do not believe that our mistakes are the devil working within us, but they can certainly be demons. Thankfully, though, God has our demons weaved into his masterpiece.
Every moment I consider a mistake I have recently made, my stomach drops. I feel as though I have been punched in the gut, and all of my breath has left the comfort of my alveoli before I have the chance to shout a pathetic, “unfair!” I let that horrid, despicable mistake disrupt my sleep, feed my migraines, consume my day and my happiness. I become enveloped in a winter of blunders. I try to count sheep as I wait patiently for rest to come, but what happens when the sheep begin jumping back over the fence once they have already been counted? Subtraction? No, thank you. I simply fall into a disgusting, murky abyss of regret, and the effluvium of my mistake is overwhelming. However, God develops an unexpected anecdote for my chill, often when and where I least expect it.
There is one house on a corner near my apartment that I absolutely relish passing. While I will usually hang my head while walking, I'll always lift my eyes once I reach the sidewalk juxtaposed against this house. If anything, it forces me to look up. The building itself has nothing special about it. Moreover, the avenue is overtaken by the house's greenery-- large, fanning leaves, voluptuous flowers, branches that extend outward to reach for any oncoming passerby, and blades of bright green grass that tickle the legs of those who dare to cross their path. It's like an Eden amongst the maze of houses, classrooms, apartments, labs, stresses, and lecture halls that Berkeley has to offer. Do not get me wrong, Berkeley is a beautiful place, but this tiny area in particular never fails to lift my spirits. I take a few steps and I'm suddenly in the rain forests of the Amazon, or maybe the Indian forests, like in Jungle Book. It is my little escape, if only for a few fleeting moments. The summer time brings out the best in this little arena. It brightens the greens and, if I look up through the widest leaves, I can trace the plant veins that are illuminated by brilliant sunlight.
“When the world was all covered with snow, I forgot the colors that the grass used to grow,” sings the lead singer of the band Noah and the Whale in their song “Shape of My Heart.” I realize that I forget the colors. My mistakes and regrets blanket my world with snow, and my memory of the majesty of life is lost. When we fear the repercussions of the mistakes we have made, everything seems dark and bleak, and those shadows can remain with us for years to come. But this gloom is simply the winter. There will always be a spring if we let it happen. Although I may forget to ask for forgiveness for my mistakes, God makes sure that my band-aid takes the form of a second chance, a new opportunity, or simply the support of my friends and family. “You will surely forget your trouble, recalling it only as waters gone by. Life will be brighter than noonday, and darkness will become like morning,” reads the Bible (Job 11:16-17). We just need to be aware in order to recognize his hints of forgiveness or his artistic redirection.
I am no quilter, but I like to think that our mistakes are just another vivid addition to the gigantic quilt that the Lord is sewing with his amiable quilting group. He will chat with a bunch of old ladies (most likely our relatives) about his day of guiding life and making plans. Once the quilt is sewn, he will display it, like a tapestry, so that we may observe it in all of its glory. It shall be boldly titled, “Whoever’s Quilt: Mistakes, Achievements, and Overall Existence.” Or at least that is how I would like to envision it. I am confident there will be some repetition on my quilt because I have unquestionably made a few mistakes twice. There will be that time I scarcely studied for my first organic chemistry midterm and failed. A small, richly embroidered patch will contain an exact, thread-borne replication of my neighbor, who used to supply my brother and me with Twix bars and delicious, dinosaur-shaped cookies. My neighbor who never failed to give us a birthday card with five dollars nestled in its fold, who displayed portraits of us in her hospital room, who I should have gotten to know before she passed away. Some patches will be filled with gray, miserable fabric, like the decay of winter. Yet, God and I will gaze at my quilt and appreciate its detail and beauty, and I will praise him on the stunning work he has deftly constructed.
When our mistakes ruin our day, when they blind us to the splendor of living and of God, when they keep us awake at night; then they form into satanic, ugly little things. Everybody makes mistakes, everybody fails. That’s called living. The bible reads “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9). In other words, our mistakes open new opportunities for God to work through us. Life is hard. It is difficult to determine whether or not the events of our life is indeed God’s plan, but really, the best we can do is trust in God, and know that he is steering us in the correct direction—that his quilting needle is working with purpose. We need to relinquish ourselves and fall into God’s grace. I personally wrestle with this concept, especially considering that I am a self-proclaimed control freak. But here it is, simply stated, in the Bible, “Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; 6 in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight,” in Proverbs 3:5-6. Alright, this is no excuse to stop trying altogether. We cannot refuse to study for the MCAT and still expect God to find us a spot in Harvard Medical School, or walk late at night around Downtown Berkeley, without BearWalk, expecting God to protect us. Yet, it is pleasant to know that He is holding our hand as we meander aimlessly throughout our attempt at being human. God created man imperfect, but brilliantly imperfect. The peculiar, seemingly flawed works of art often emerge above the rest. Picasso, for instance, created incredibly distinctive paintings that will forever be etched into the minds of humanity. The Mona Lisa has no eyebrows, yet if she had some she would probably be just one more Italian woman. Without mistakes, we would not learn, we would not relish our symbolic springtime, and life would lose its beauty. For if we were absolutely flawless our quilt would lose its interest—our painting its character.
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