Welcome the delight of human mystery

I like to think I am a fairly self-aware person. My flaws are many, and they cast noticeable shadows. I am intimately familiar with my impatience and arrogance, sadly. At the same time, my gifts are also present. Into a fifth decade on the planet, I am grateful to be able to see clearly what I might be able to contribute, much of the time. And still, I have been surprised by parts of myself. I suspect I am not alone in this.

The most surprising and ordinary moment recently happened when I was doing Sudoku puzzles. I have always loved games with numbers and patterns. I find it satisfying to challenge myself with harder versions and learn new strategies. A friend showed me the app she uses, and I thought it might be worth trying out.

Downloading the free version of the new app, I settled in, anticipating good things. But the new app felt all wrong. The colours were different. The notes feature didn’t record the way my other one did. The formatting of columns and rows made it harder for me to see and recognize patterns in the way I have done for years. I made it through three puzzles before I just went back to my old app.

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I think of myself as a pretty flexible person. Generally, I look forward to change and handle it fairly well. But my frustration with the other app was curious. I noticed my rigidity, the strength of my preferences, a lack of desire to persevere in something different, and general resistance to change.

The application or method for recreational Sudoku puzzling is of fairly low consequence in my life. It is possible that the new app is objectively worse than the one I prefer in terms of technology. And maybe none of that matters enough to spend any more time thinking about it.

But the pattern emerged again.

I am parenting my way through the back-to-school season. There are personnel changes and new processes to integrate. Bus routes and policies are different than last year. Car schedules and drivers in the house will need to adapt. And I found myself thinking, “What was wrong with how it was last year? Why can’t we just leave it the same as it was?!”

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Immediately, I felt the weight of my own exasperation and resistance. Maybe I am not as flexible as I thought, or as I used to be?

And I laughed.

There have been so many gifts in my life to help me to grow. Parents and siblings and friends, therapy and self-help, spiritual disciplines, and incredible books and teaching. My inclination toward perfectionism has inclined me toward making a project of myself, in some fairly unhelpful ways.

Maybe the biggest gift of this summer has been rediscovering the mystery of myself, with some compassion for the people who live with and love me. They are not nearly as surprised about these things as I am!

Out on the front step, I have some potted plants growing into their new climate. I am watching a succulent pot that thrived in Saskatchewan struggle with the difference in lighting and moisture so close to the Rocky mountains. It is surviving and looks a little worse for wear. It seems that I might be a more like the plants than I realized.

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With all the personality tests, diagnoses, self-help content available to us, I get caught up in believing that I should be able to be constantly aware of myself. Certainty is for meat thermometers and measuring tapes. Humans are so much more delightfully unexpected. 

I still want to notice who I am, still need to be attentive to who I am becoming. But I want to watch myself with curiosity and wonder. We are still being created by the Creator of the universe, shaped and formed as we move through life on the planet. May we surrender to being a part of Creation. May we keep showing up to see God’s work evolving in time. And may the mystery of it bring a smile to my lips and reverence in my soul.

(Leah Perrault is executive director at Mount St. Francis in Cochrane, Alberta.)

A version of this article appeared in the September 06, 2026 issue of The Catholic Register with the headline "Welcome the delight of human mystery"