Wednesday, July 3, 2013

Imperfectionism at Its Finest

Some people think I'm a perfectionist.  I'm not.  It's hard enough for me to be as imperfect as I am on a daily basis.  Some days the best I can do is about as far from perfect as one can be and still be living.  I'm okay with that.

Don't get me wrong, I think we should all strive to do our best and get a little better along the way.  Growth.  That's what I think it's all about.  Second Peter 3:18 admonishes us to "grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ."  I'm trying for that every single day.


For the past few days I've been painting the sunroom floor.  It was a big job.  I finished it last night.  I can hardly move today, but it was worth it.  I love how it turned out.  Is it perfect?  No.  See...




Before the big move to Ohio some of my furniture, like the kitchen table, had issues.




Now a few more pieces of furniture have issues.  




I'm okay with that.  I have my issues too.


The new house is wonderful and I'm so thankful for all the work my parents put into it before we even packed the moving truck.  Is it perfect?  We think so.  But if you look around you might find a few things that could use some work.


Like my cast iron sink that could use some new caulk.




Or the laundry room wall with a broken door stop.




The truth is, if you look hard enough for imperfections you will find them.  In preparation for this post I walked through the house looking for imperfect things to photograph.  Coming up with those pictures took all of three minutes.  I could have come up with so many more, but I chose to stop.  Because I don't want to live my life focused on the imperfections around me.  I don't want to pick people or things apart by what they are lacking or what could be different.  


I want to celebrate growth.  I want to notice growth and focus on growth.  I want others to focus on that in me.  


So I'm going to embrace the imperfections in my house.  I'm going to sit in the chair with the scratch and remember the loving family that came all the way to Texas to help me move.  




I'm going to let my kids play on the sunroom floor and not worry about dents and scrapes and scratches.  


And if our family had a mascot, he'd be a worn down eraser.  Because around here our imperfectionism runs rampant. 




And we're okay with that.


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