The dress is on backwards, her (my) shoes are on the wrong feet, she’s holding her camera backwards, her hair is a mess, and there’s a dog pinned under the door. Also, the lighting is off, and it’s not well focused or composed. There is not a thing I would change about this picture. This snapshot tells a story about our life. It’s messy, and lively, and it’s spontaneous. It’s beautiful, and those little imperfections are part of what makes it… well… perfect.
I love this picture.
Beauty is imperfection
I have a mint green blanket that my grandmother knit for my baby. My grandmother was in her late 90s, had arthritis in her hands, and she was close to blind, but she was determined to knit this blanket for my daughter. The blanket was probably knit, in it’s entirety, several times with the number of times mistakes were caught, ripped out, and re-knitted, and yet the finished product is still full of dropped stitches. Those holes make the blanket even more beautiful to me. If the blanket was completed flawlessly, it would be easy to overlook the effort and determination and love that went into making that blanket. That’s not to say that a perfectly finished blanket made by someone’s grandma isn’t beautiful, but for this blanket, the flaw carries the story.
I struggle with perfectionism, and sometimes it’s paralyzing. I get stalled on a project because I can’t see a perfect outcome with my abilities, or with my resources. Of course, we want to do our best, but then get busy living. Those little imperfections are sometimes the best, most memorable and most endearing parts.