I'm still working on this idea that I don't have to be perfect at everything I do...or ANYTHING I do for that matter. I think I'd forgotten that I never HAVE been perfect. I gave myself an assignment this past week to look for things, situations, objects, people that are imperfect...and to let these "speak" to me.
I love to pick up sea shells whenever I am fortunate enough to walk the beach. The beach in Hollywood, Florida is the one I have walked the most. There are loads of small shells which can be easily harvested from the North Beach shores there. Over the years I have become a shell snob of sorts. I may see a shell that catches my eye as I walk along. I will then pick it up and inspect it and, IF it isn't perfect and without defect, I will gently toss it back to the sand. However, this past winter, on three different occasions, I found small broken conch shells...and I kept them. I can not tell you why I had this brief change of behavior and heart. Neither can I tell you why that, since my return to Ohio in early April, these three imperfect shells have been conspicuously laying on my desk where I work and where I write. Hmmmm? Maybe I just forgot the reasons.
We have a tree in our back yard that I've loved since my husband and I planted it. It has curvy branches. It produces red berries in the fall and tiny flowers in the spring. Neither of us can recall what kind of tree it is or what it was about this tree that made us want it. I forget. The tree is asymmetrical. Some might look at it and think that it is out of balance or needs the services of a good tree trimmer. I realized just today that the lopsidedness of this tree is the reason I love it so much.
Last week, I was home one day with a sinus infection. I didn't bother doing my hair or putting on make up. I was home for the day. As I was enjoying a little quiet time the doorbell rang. I didn't answer it. I skulked away from any windows and basically hid until I could hear a car drive safely away. Didn't want ANYONE to see me without makeup...not friend, not foe. I had a really good chuckle when later I found a piece of tract literature stuck in the door. I guess someone who might want to save my soul might not care if I were well coiffed and perfectly made up. Ahhhh, and then I remembered, I'm not perfect whether I'm perfectly made up or not. . . and I laughed at myself some more.
What are you like when you forget that you are not perfect?
Oh, I was so glad to find that you had written something Michelle and I was blessed enough to find it in the middle of the night when sleep seems to be evading me at the moment. Imperfection. I woke up beating myself up for not eating right and for not taking care of my body. Dealing with transition in my life and not having a lot of control of anything. So frustrating since I am a bit of a perfectionist too. I appreciate your food for thought. It is in our own "brokenness and imperfection" that we are most vulnerable, isn't it? When we are most "real" to others. Appearing to be perfect may become a barrier which keeps others away when really none of us is perfect. It is all an illusion. I'm glad I wasn't the person at the door. I wouldn't have cared how you looked, make up or not.
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