When someone cares enough to embrace your imperfections

When someone cares enough to embrace your imperfections

Commentary by Mark Griswold | FāVS News

I’m a perfectionist to some extent (although imperfect, as we all are). This can be a good thing at times. It makes me a good editor. I can catch 99.995% of misplaced modifiers, comma splices and the incorrect use of “fewer” versus “less.”

That said, I recently discovered I misspelled “Habsburg” in my novel, which I proofread more than a dozen times, and that will bother me somewhat until I decide it’s worth spending $75 to upload a new manuscript to the printer.

Last night, I threw a party celebrating the release of said novel. Praise has been pouring in. Several people who attended told me it was simply marvelous and other superlatives. I’m trying to let it sink in. I’m trying to embrace the praise.

It’s not easy. Instead of focusing on everything that went right, last night and today, I focused on everything that went wrong.

I should have arrived at the venue earlier so I didn’t have to scramble setting up. (Thank you to the people who showed up early and helped!) I didn’t have time to pick up the charcuterie platter I ordered from Costco. The crockpot with meatballs was left at home. I forgot to set up the video camera to capture my presentation. I forgot to thank the bakery that provided the custom-made cookies. I messed up the numbering on the trivia sheets. 

No one cared. And no one will care that I misspelled Habsburg. Likely 99.995% of people either won’t know the correct spelling, will read right past it or will ignore the mistake. This is just as I do when I read a novel that has fewer than five mistakes (or even 10 or 20).

No one cares about the “mistakes” we make because 99.995% of people don’t notice, don’t care or care enough about us not to care about such minor flaws.

The Japanese have a philosophy known as wabi-sabi, which emphasizes the beauty of imperfection. Among other things, this is expressed through the art of kintsugi, which highlights cracks and chips in pottery by mending them with urushi lacquer dusted with powdered gold, silver or platinum. 

I need to embrace my inner wabi-sabi more. Only through our imperfections do we allow God’s grace to shine. Grace is not for the perfect. The miracle of healing can only be realized in the broken. The golden lacquer of God’s divine touch shines brightest in our greatest flaws. As poet Leonard Cohen wrote, “In the broken places, the light shines through.”

So, in fact, people do care. They care enough to show up to a book release party. They care enough to gleefully share what a wonderful time they had. They care enough to not care that trivia sheets were misnumbered and adapt. They care enough to give you a warm embrace and even a shoulder to cry on when you’re feeling “less than.”

They care enough to take a brush and serve as the hands of Christ, repairing your soul with divine urushi lacquer infused with golden grace.

When Christ visited the disciples in the upper room after the Resurrection, his body was not “perfect.” The holes in his hands and the gash in his side hadn’t disappeared. Instead, they shined brightly, allowing Thomas — and the Thomas in all of us — to witness the scars of his grace in all their glory.

In fact, the running theme throughout the Bible is the story of God using the imperfect to carry out his perfect plan. Sarah was old and barren. Moses stuttered. Rahab was a harlot. Even Jesus came as a poor babe born in a stable, not as a Titan god, and in his crucifixion, what most at the time thought to be his greatest defeat, he achieved his greatest victory.

I thank God that I am imperfect. I thank God for friends who fill in the cracks and invite me to fill in theirs. I thank God that through our weakness, his strength shines through.

The views expressed in this opinion column are those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect the views of FāVS News. FāVS News values diverse perspectives and thoughtful analysis on matters of faith and spirituality.