The Beauty of Imperfection

Mazy loves to use her little index finger to touch. Everything. She will even fall asleep with that little pointer finger up in the air, as if pointing out that she is number one. Well of course we think that too, but the other day, she used her little exploring mind to touch my heart.

As I was holding and talking to her, her little finger found my open heart surgery scar. She gently ran her little finger down my scar, as if realizing it was tender to the touch. I quietly told her that that was mommy’s scar from awhile ago, but is one of the reasons why she is here today. I could hardly utter those last few words, as tears welled up in my eyes. Mazy looked up at me with her big blue eyes as an intimate moment was etched in my heart. My little girl, wrapped in my arms. My little miracle.

When Dan and I were dating, I feared telling the man that I was going to marry, that I might not be able to carry a child. It was a fear I rarely spoke of, but always carried with me. When I had to tell Dan, he responded with such understanding and grace. It was as if God had already prepped his heart. One night, as I realized my imperfect heart and scars were weighing on me, Dan said that my scar was beautiful. Beautiful. I never fully saw it to be that, but the man I loved, did.

My scars tell my story. Some have internal scars. Some have external. Mine happen to be external (though some internal too). Not only do I have my open heart surgery scar, but also 3 chest tube scars, and 6 stitch scars to go along with them. Yet I easily forget about them. I really do. I used to be self-conscious of them, but not anymore.

They tell my story.

For years, all I desired was to be pregnant. To experience the feeling of carrying a child. To have a pregnant body. The maternity look. The excuse to buy maternity clothes. That may sound very odd to some of you because maybe pregnancy wasn’t your favorite thing. But for a girl who longed to have a child, pregnancy and maternity clothes were things I envied.

After having a child, it is obvious that the body just isn’t the same. It took a little getting used to for me, but I have learned to love my new body. It was a body that I desired for so long – the “scars” of having a child. I was able to give birth to Mazy naturally, but as any mom would say, your body just isn’t the same.

And THAT, is the beauty of imperfection. I can fit in my old jeans, but maybe there are some parts that just look different. My hips may be a little wider, but they are the perfect hips to carry my child on. My stomach, may not be as tight, but it’s not like I ever had a career in modeling. When I look at myself, I see a mom. I see a mom with scars. Scars and imperfections that remind me of who I am.

God has blessed me with imperfections. But to Him, they are things of BEAUTY. Yes, I sometimes get frustrated with my body (ex. my heart), but He is using it for HIS good. I tend to forget that sometimes, but He truly is. A friend once told me that if everything was perfect, that we wouldn’t cling to God. She couldn’t be more right. If I had the perfect recovery after having Mazy, I wouldn’t be clinging like I am now. That is the beauty of imperfection.

What about your life, is imperfect? What does GOD see as beautiful? What imperfections is God using to make you cling?

I am thankful that God uses our little daughter to remind me of the beauty of my imperfections. Anytime she runs her little finger down my scar, I am reminded of the grace and showers of blessings that God has given me. And in those times, I am holding with my very own arms, one of the biggest blessings we could ever be given.