I laugh sometimes when people ask me if my house is always clean.
Or if it always looks like it does in the pictures.
Or if it’s always perfect…..not a pillow or picture frame or dish out-of-place.
Not even close.
There is a whole lot of imperfection going on around here.
And sometimes you look at yourself and wonder why.
You wonder why you brought a roast to garden club?
And wonder if you should try to be more like the mom in “Leave it to Beaver?”
And wonder if life would be so much better if we all learned a little more School House Rock?
Imperfection is a lot like this table my brother made me for Christmas. He created it from scraps and leftover pieces of pallet wood he found by the side of the road. My brother created something wonderful by emphasizing its imperfections.
An imperfect one-of-a-kind gift with character in every line….every flaw.
It’s worn and old and scraped and distressed by life.
And these worn, cracked, pieces of pallet wood tell a story.
And it’s story is beautiful.
I want imperfect perfection to be my story.
I want it to be my voice.
So as 2013 begins……I want to celebrate my imperfections. I want to celebrate who I am and not worry about the cracks or the chips or the flaws.
I want to be happy in my heart….
…..with imperfect perfection.