Over the Christmas break, we made the worst gingerbread house. That’s right. The worst. I had made the (crooked) cookie cut-outs for the house a week before and we were waiting for some fancy candy to decorate it (and perhaps hide the flaws of the over-all structure). But of course, time went by quickly, as it does at the Christmas season, and before we knew it, it was Christmas Eve, and we hadn’t made our little house yet.
I had two options. Either scrap the whole idea or go ahead and do it with whatever we had in the pantry. I really wanted a pretty, pinterest-worthy gingerbread house. But my kids? They just wanted to experience the fun of making a gingerbread house.
So we did it. We made a house without a big pile of bright, pretty candy. We made a house and did not have quite enough icing. And, after each child meticulously decorated their half of the roof, they were completely satisfied. Because, in spite of of what we lacked, the process was still fun and they were proud of what they had contributed.
I could have kicked myself. I almost took that little moment away from them because I had an expectation of what it should look like. I almost missed those adorable, serious little faces as they placed each, tiny, chocolate chip as if the fate of the universe hung in the balance.
But I didn’t miss it. I let the process be more important than the end result. And isn’t it? I think so! Although it’s easy to forget that these days when we see so many beautiful images floating around social media.
Our Gingerbread House may not be perfect, but with the light shining on it just right, it wasn’t half bad, and today, that’s good enough.