We’ve spent a great deal of time talking about imperfection, you and I.

I named this blog because I was aware of how very flawed we all are.  How flawed I am.  But the truth of it is this.  We still dress up our flaws, polish them out until there’s only a small amount of dull remaining.  Reveal just enough of our real selves so we are relatable but still respectable.

A friend told me some truths this week.  Told me that if I didn’t blog about what’s gone on in my life this year that I’d never be excited about writing again.  I’d never feel fully authentic.  Said that I really made my imperfect a little too pretty, and that it was shared with the right lighting and the right amount of perfect thrown in.  That my life looked a little too together.

I sat there in silence.  Mouth wide open, slightly pissed.  But I was also convicted.  They were right.  And I hate that…I’ve always wanted my life to be completely real.  I’m not much for show and pretense and the thought of this place I created with you by my side turning into a half truth made me feel a little sick.

Without going into detail, because some things are just for me, I’ll tell you that this last year I went through a divorce.  Am still going through it.  Whew.  There it is.

Raw, messy imperfection.  Probably imperfection you didn’t expect.

I’ll tell you the last two years have been the hardest of my life, and there were some really dark places.  That my prayer is for my family to continue to love other people, no matter who they are and where they come from.  To care for each other as best we can.  That my children will be loved and see the invisible God that I don’t always feel connected to, but know is there, carrying me through this time.  That they will be healthy and happy and that I never, for one second, forget that my life should serve purposes outside of my own.

I’m grateful for the chance to be fully open with you.  For you to know when I say imperfect, I mean it.  I know what it looks like.  How it dresses and what it feels like down to my bones.  And I know if we pay attention and look at the people we meet and the situations we’re in as teachers, that those broken places can drive us to something bigger.  There will be good that comes from this dull, dingy spot.  And from your own.

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