"Imperfection": An Unlikely Welcome Mat

The other day I was perusing and purging the Pinterest notifications on my e-mail. I suppose because the things that interest me most these days are small cottages, I get a plethora of pins about all things English country. This day, however, it wasn't so much the picture, but a caption one woman had made about the photograph that enticed me most. The picture was of one small sitting room looking into another. The furnishings were simple and old, but definitely cozy. Framed images papered the wall, covering the majority of the open space. Just above the doorway was a shelf cluttered with books, trinkets, and momentos shoved and stacked this way and that. Next to the lovely square were these words by the woman who obviously found the picture captivating: "This looks just imperfect enough to say welcome...truly, truly, welcome." -Janet La Clair

I must confess I know absolutely nothing about the woman who made that statement other than this; she must be someone who sees and appreciates the beauty of imperfection. Can there really be beauty in the imperfect? I believe so. After all, we live in a fallen world. There isn't anything that hasn't been touched and affected by sin. It is all imperfection that has been redeemed. I know of nothing and no one whose brokenness has been repaired who doesn't reflect the beauty of the Restorer. Though minute imperfections remain, they are but testament to the love and sacrifice that was put into the restoration.

I am a child of the sixties. I grew up with such iconic decorating trends as shag carpeting, avocado and harvest gold appliances, lava lamps, and bean bag chairs. Tom and I were laughing together the other night about some of those crazy styles, including the ubiquitous plastic couch covers and clear vinyl carpet runners. Their purpose, of course, was to keep your furniture and floor coverings clean and "new" looking, but in reality they gave off a more, "Don't even think about sitting here," vibe.

I much prefer a relaxed approach to decorating, myself. In fact, my "style", and I use that term extremely loosely, would have to be categorized as something between "cottage" and "hand-me-down" eclectic. I'm not saying that as a diss either. I like my style, whatever it is. It's a description that should be quite recognizable to anyone who has ever stepped inside my door over the last thirty years or so. It's anything but perfection, and I kinda love it that way. To me, the most important thing a house can be is welcoming. Too much perfection can be off-putting and can leave visitors and family alike a bit perplexed about whether or not they can put their feet up or set a glass down. (Yes, I'm aware I ended that sentence with a preposition, but we're not aiming for perfection here, after all ;)!)

There's a sort of incongruence between a welcome mat on the porch and a "look, but don't touch" atmosphere inside. The most valuable things within our walls are always the people who reside there and the friends, neighbors - and I dare say, even the strangers - who find respite there. I think that's the sentiment in which the Pinterest comment was made. A little imperfection in a home is as endearing as a crooked smile or an open-arm invitation to embrace. It speaks volumes about what's truly important in that space... love, laughter, fellowship, acceptance.

You know, I think the same can be said of our personal lives. Speaking for myself here, I like to put my best foot forward. I like to make a good impression. I think we all do. However, there have been times in my life when things were falling apart, but no one would have been the wiser, because I pasted a smile on my face and acted like business as usual. That was sort of the mode of operation for me until someone at church gave me a very sweet and sincere compliment about my children's behavior and attributed it to my terrific parenting. I thought to myself, "Wow... if you only knew what life was really like at my house...." I am not perfect, not by a loooong shot, and I am - and WAS - definitely NOT a perfect parent. My kids, as wonderful as they are... and as much as I love them... are NOT perfect children. There is only One perfect, and try as I may to emulate His example, still... I fall short.

I had an opportunity a few years later to right the obviously incorrect perception of my abilities as a mom. I was speaking as part of one of our women's retreats. I don't remember the year, but the session is crystal clear in my mind. We had done a coffee theme that fall. We even included a "Build-Your-Own" coffee mug during our time there, putting in samples of coffees, creamers... even sprinkles, but I digress. Each of the women presenting based their content on whatever their addition was to the mug. My topic? "When the Grounds Are Bitter."

I began to open up to the ladies present in very real, raw terms about my failures and shortcomings as a mother. I talked candidly about how my stubbornness and inflexibility led to many bitter and regrettable conflicts with my maturing children. They were straining at the bit, and professing to be wise, I was resisting with everything in me... to the point of almost irreconcilable rifts between us. I had to confess that my life and my parenting were equally imperfect, and that my only hope at mending these battered relationships was laying all the ugly at Jesus' feet and asking Him to change my heart... to make me the person and the mother He wanted me to be. Truthfully, I'm still a work in progress, but the good Lord did help me to mend my relationships with my precious kiddos. I remain eternally grateful for that.

After the retreat, things changed for me at church. I think people saw me in a different light... a more accurate light. I was simply a mother, a sinful human being who made mistakes like everyone else and who needed God's daily grace and forgiveness in trying my best to raise His kids to know and love Him. I had inadvertently been placed on some kind of pedestal, and it was both false and off-putting. People can relate to "real." They can relate to reality because we all live very real lives. We all fall short. We all struggle. There is no perfection this side of heaven except in Jesus.

I'm not advocating that we start airing all our dirty laundry in hopes that it makes us more relatable, but I am saying that being truthful with others about our own struggles, especially when someone else is going through difficulties similar to the ones we've gone through, can be welcoming. It can be the salve that begins healing. It can be the thing that ushers another into the presence of God's forgiveness and grace. Yes, imperfection is an unlikely welcome mat, but if that imperfection helps others to see the light of God's redemption, restoration, renewal and love more clearly, then it has done its job better than all the "perfection" in the world.