I hate typos.  And yet, if you are a regular to my blog you probably think I love them.  They appear everywhere.  Sometimes I write “payer” for “prayer” or a really embarrassing one was when I suggested we pull back on the “reigns.”

Yeah, that one was bad.

I write a post and then I re-read it. A lot. Each time I catch a little something I missed the time before.  Eventually when I realize it is just becoming an OCD exercise and I have no idea what I am actually reading anymore I hit “Publish” and pray I didn’t miss anything major.

But inevitably my mom or best friend will text me about an hour later quoting my words back to me revealing a glaring mistake (for the record I did catch the “reign” incident on my own).

Here is last night’s text from my mom: “…from the flu one: ‘the last hour and half I am pretty sure was just me napping and her sitting‘ technically, it was ‘I napping and she sitting.'”

In moments like these I drop everything I am doing, rush to my computer and frantically log into WordPress to try and undo my mistakes before anyone else sees them (these are also moments when I take comfort in my small readership). Then I feel like a moron for the next few hours because by 29, with a solid education behind me, I should know without thinking when to use “she” instead of “her” and “I” instead of “me” (sincere apologies to my English teacher, you deserve better…).

When they are pointed out to me (and I am always grateful when they are) I am astonished.  How could I miss them? It is so obvious! I read the post over and over again and when I finally clicked “Publish” it said exactly what it was supposed to say. I was sure of it.

The meaning was there, but not written with the correct words.  Intentions and actions often are two very different things aren’t they?

I know what word is supposed to be there so when my eyes go over “payer” my brain translates it into my intended meaning and it reads “prayer”.  A beautiful act of self-delusion.

In the past year I have gotten into distance running. At races they have event photographers taking pictures of the runners to show how much fun we are having as the miles stack up behind us.  I imagine as I give a thumbs up and smile while passing them as the camera clicks that they just captured a moment of sleek athleticism in 5’ 2″ form.  When I open the pictures what I usually discover is a person more resembling a sunburned hobbit fleeing the Shire in running clothes than the next cover shot for Runner’s World. The adjective “sleek” does not come to mind.  My perception of myself mid-race and the reality of the picture are not the same.

Silly pictures and a few typos are not earth shattering, but I have found myself thinking about the deeper implications of my tendency to live in perceptions.  Typos have made me start to think about how this concept plays out in different ways on a larger scale.

What other areas of my life do I autocorrect?  In my quest for perfection I become blind to my own faults. I mistake so many sins for good intentions.  I am so concentrated on what I imagine myself to be that I don’t recognize the person in the mirror.  When the truth comes home it is uncomfortable.

It can work in good ways and bad.  Sometimes I am hypercritical of myself and a kind word from a friend provides grace for me to see myself as God sees me in perfect love.  Unfortunately those experiences are shadowed by the times I think incredibly highly of myself, only to be horrified when I am confronted with the truth that my arrogance is core to why Christ had to come and die for me.

“Don’t pick on people, jump on their failures, criticize their faults— unless, of course, you want the same treatment. That critical spirit has a way of boomeranging. It’s easy to see a smudge on your neighbor’s face and be oblivious to the ugly sneer on your own. Do you have the nerve to say, ‘Let me wash your face for you,’ when your own face is distorted by contempt? It’s this whole traveling road-show mentality all over again, playing a holier-than-thou part instead of just living your part. Wipe that ugly sneer off your own face, and you might be fit to offer a washcloth to your neighbor.”  Matthew 7: 1-5 (The Message)

When I read other people’s posts my eye immediately catches their typos. When someone screws up I am the first to take note and smugly think how I would never, could never, make such a blunder.  Self-delusion.

I still hate typos and I will continue to strive toward a blogging career that is free of them, but they are teaching me invaluable lessons in humility and self-awareness to how arrogant and blind I usually am to my true state. They remind me how much I need a Savior.

BTW… I am sure there are probably at least 6 mistakes in this post.  Don’t worry, my mom will catch them and I will promptly update it later this evening.