I thought about this one a while.
Obviously, when I hear the word “imperfect” my first thought is: Myself.
Because I am not perfect. By no means am I perfect.
I am flawed. I am broken. I am a work in progress.
My life is not perfect.
It is chaotic. It is rushed. It is sometimes painful.
My house is not perfect.
It is messy. It is disorganized. It is too often too quiet and empty…lonely.
My friends are not perfect.
They are hurting. They are struggling. They are sometimes distant.
My family is not perfect.
We are loud. We are crazy. We are learning as we go.
My world is not perfect.
But it is my world. My family. My friends. My house. My life.
I am hyper critical of myself, not so much of the rest of the world around me (family, friends, house and world escape the critique).
I am never truly satisfied with what I see when I look in the mirror. With my attempts (and failures) at healthy eating, regular exercise, temper control, humility.
My imperfections stare out at me with unblinking fierceness, like a spotlight on a stage.
My faith is a strong faith, and my God created me, and this life I live. If He formed me, in His image, then how can I possibly be any less than perfect?
My “imperfections” are what make me me; unique, one of a kind, and most of all, His.
No, I am not perfect, but I am Exactly Who I was Created to be.
And I’m perfectly happy with that.
(self-portraits are a big part of "letting go" for me...this one is a little older....Drama (the kitty) is quite a bit bigger now).
“Being happy doesn’t mean that everything is perfect, it means you’ve decided to look beyond the imperfections”. - Unkown