Choosing Imperfection & Quirky Jokes


I stopped putting stock in perfection. Probably because I noticed the beauty in tattered edges and ink splatters, blurry pictures and scratchy voices.

Now I like the old cars that barely run and listening to quirky jokes. I like the toddler who runs around with one shoe and the mother who laughs at the chaos of it all. 

I will be the first to tell you about my imperfections. I’ll tell you about how much of a mess I make, how I regularly ruin the dinner recipe and say the wrong thing at the worst time. I’ll tell you about spilling my coffee on white shirts and getting lost in downtown. I’ll tell you that I can’t keep a plant alive any longer than I could a goldfish, but that doesn't stop me from trying. I’ll tell you about my heavy heart—how much I struggle with the weight of this broken world and the hope of heaven.


I once tried to organize my bookshelf by color but ended up hating the symmetry. I rearranged stories to make them look more like life. I have two holes in my favorite sweater and never bothered fixing them. People always comment on them like they’re doing me a favor, and I smirk and tell them it’s my holy sweater, like I’m a cheesy TV show host.

I don’t know. One day I just stopped tracing out the lines and started free-handing it all. I’m learning to be okay with having too many feelings and being too short to ever see the stage, because God teaches me so much through my weird and humble perspective.

I thought that people wanted me to act a certain way, and maybe sometimes they do, but it’s way more fun to show up in my own skin. To laugh at myself religiously and love the way the rain sounds. To add sarcastic comments into conversations and make a ridiculous number of Remember the Titans references. To sing along with the songs on the radio and mess up the words, but keep singing anyway, like I’m the opening act and the show must go on.

So I’m regularly missing my exit on the interstate because I’m lost in my thoughts and tripping on sidewalks because I’m looking at the sky. I’m settling into it anyway, though. It helps me see grace.

Alex FlySeeking, My storyComment