There is a line in this song, “….I love your perfect imperfections.” It shouts to me. Screams at me. It is one of the most fundamental, utterly primal components of my core. Humanity is imperfect. We are broken. And the flaws are what make us unique, beautiful, perfect. Mona Lisa’s lop sided, closed lipped smile that is only seen in her eyes is the epitome. So much of what we value, what we crave in our lives and in others is to see the flaws and UNDERSTAND their true meaning. We want to know why Mona Lisa smiles or at whom. We want to hear the story behind the asymmetry of Tina Fay’s face or how someone lost their arm. But it is also the well concealed, hidden, internal scars and asymmetries we carry upon our hearts that also deserve a telling. What breaks a heart? What mended that same heart? How much can one heart take? How much can that same heart give?

I drove out to my quilt lady, Miss Bonnie, to take her some black batting. She has my newest mosaic quilt that I am making for my living room. The quilt is batiks and black with a black backing. The normal white batting is being “pulled through” by the long arm quilting process. It’s called “bearding”. Miss Bonnie made it seem like the back of the quilt had a white 5 o’clock shadow. So….I bought black batting. She promised she pull out all the stitches and start over but when I got out there, and looked at it I realized….THAT is a lot of minute 2mm stitches to pull out by hand with a seam ripper. Black thread on black fabric is near impossible to see. Then I looked at the “bearding” and concluded…..it is NOT that visible. Miss Bonnie thought it was VERY noticeable. I felt that the imperfection makes the quilt unique, homemade and genuine. I asked her to leave that section and just move forward. I’ll know its there. It will be something Miss Bonnie and I share – our agreement to let it be imperfect. She accepted that I LOVE my quilt just as much with it’s very slight imperfection. It is not diminished in my mind. In fact, the imperfection  (and knowing the truth behind it) makes the quilt belong to me.

I don’t strive for perfect. I don’t seek flawless. I look for the thing that makes things unique. I truly love that beautifully broken person who allows me to see them as they really are – all of them. It’s even better if they desire the same from me.