Perfectly Lovable

If you're like me, you're a big fan of the Nester. And you know what Nester works so hard to teach us. Say it with me, now: It Doesn't Have to Be Perfect to Be Beautiful. IDHTBPTBB. She's right. You know she's right. I know she's right.

So why do we have so much trouble accepting this fact?

The other day, I read a post by another of my favorite bloggers, Kimba at A Soft Place to Land. If you haven't read "My Closets-A Reflection of Me," you need to. In it, Kimba courageously opens her closet doors to reveal (drum roll, please)--she's not perfect! Her house looks wonderful, but not so much if you open the pantry door. And she relates this fact to her life: even though she may look great on the surface, she sometimes has real turmoil on the inside.

Now, do we like Kimba less because she admitted that she's not perfect? No! In fact, we like her more. We appreciate her more.

So I've been thinking. Maybe in addition to Nester's teaching that It Doesn't Have to Be Perfect to Be Beautiful, we should add another line: It Does Have to Be Imperfect to Be Lovable.

We're imperfect human beings. And knowing that someone else is imperfect enables us to love that person. Their imperfections make them approachable.

Here's an illustration. I just made new bedding for myself. I, the girl who can't read a pattern guide to save her life, made all new bedding. I wanted a light, updated look for spring, so I made this:



I think it looks pretty good. And if I could focus the camera just right and get just the right angle, it might even appear perfect. If it were perfect, and you knew that I made it, you might admire me. You might even want to hire me to make the same thing for you. But you might not want to hang out with me. You might not want to grab a cup of coffee and sit and chat with me.

Now let me show you a couple of close-ups:




As you can plainly see, my sewing is not perfect. Shoot, it's not even finished. But it doesn't have to be perfect! It can still be beautiful. And I don't have to be afraid to use it. I don't have to worry if a pillow gets a smudge on it. I don't have to be angry at my kids when they flop down on my bed. I don't even have to yell at the dog when she jumps up onto the bed (although I might). This bedding is approachable because it isn't perfect. So I'm free to enjoy it.

The same is true for people. Because we're not perfect, other people can approach us. Hopefully, they can know that they'll be loved and appreciated for their strengths and their weaknesses. Because it's those weaknesses--those imperfections--that make them one of us.

Perfect? No. Lovable? Yes.