I believe that imperfection is beauty. As a teenager in my dysfunctional family, I should know. Every year before the holidays, Christmas cards of all kinds pour into our mailboxes from distant relatives, long lost friends, and everyone else. Their cards boast perfect family portraits and neatly typed newsletters.
On the other hand, our card/newsletter/greeting is something entirely out of the ordinary. No, we don’t believe in those professional posed portraits. We publish an actual newspaper with pictures from our own family scrapbook: pictures of us all sweaty after a race, pictures of us laughing, playing, looking away, or caught by surprise on camera. It’s true that these are the moments that made up our year and that’s what we want to share in a family newspaper.
I believe that imperfection makes up who we are. Everyone says we learn from mistakes, so without imperfection, we would never learn to grow in character. Some things will never be the same without the imperfections that personalize them, like my thread-thin blankey, chipped china, and doggy-eared folds in my worn paperbacks. Perhaps this is why animated movies can’t convey that human essence quite yet. Animation makes it way too easy to make every tooth, every plate, everything perfect. Life’s not that way. Imperfection gives us something to relate to…because who can’t relate to the daily chaos, the everyday mistakes, and the perfection of imperfection?
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