Imperfections

A Damaged Instrument

While on vacation in late August, Norma’s cell phone died. We went to the Sprint store to replace her old phone with a beautiful, shiny new flip phone. While we were there, Norma suggested I look at the new Treo.

I’d had my current model of Treo for 3 years. I know that’s a millennium in the world of technology, but it was working just fine. But there were things this new phone could do that my old one couldn’t. So I made the plunge, pulled out my American Express card and bought the new phone.

I really like it. It’s cool looking and I can do all kinds of neat things with it, including listen to all the Moody stations. I play with it every odd moment I can and really enjoy the look and feel of this cool new phone.

Yesterday, I went running. (Yes, I carry my phone on my long runs!) Unexplainably, my brand new phone jumped out of my belt pack and bounced on the sidewalk. I was horrified. I walked cautiously to the phone, picked it up and hesitantly examined the damage. My brand new phone had a little nick in the corner.

I called Norma and told her the news: my beloved new phone was no longer perfect. Her response was philosophical. “Well, then it’s just like life. Not perfect.”

Her casual response really struck home with me. In my perfectionist expectations, I want everything to be perfect. But life just isn’t like that.

It’s like the first dent in your new car. You might as well get past that first ding, because it’s not going to remain showroom forever—especially driving in Chicago.

Or it’s like the first time you realize the person you’ve chosen as your life mate has issues. And you have to decide to live with your choice and learn the unconditional love that she learned for you a long time ago.

Remember when you learned that your pastor, or the hero you looked up to or your spiritual mentor was less than perfect. You had to do a reality check and realize that people are human. Only God is perfect.