He came home from a week long trip to Hawaii. Business-related. Oh, the life. He came home the day I spoke in public for the first real time to a group of some 125 beautiful women. He eased into the church foyer on the last tidbit of my talk. I saw him. I smiled.
I had been so nervous about him hearing me. About me seeing him. My husband knows me so well … all my weaknesses, all my imperfections. He knows all … all that I wish others didn’t have to see. Would seeing him make me freeze? Would I forget everything I intended to say?
But I carried on. God was with me. He put the words in my heart and eased them out of my mouth. Just like He’d promised. I didn’t have to be someone I’m not. I could be the broken, imperfect person that I am. I could be real.
After arriving home, he carried in his luggage and said he had something for us girls. Souvenirs. Souvenirs from Hawaii. The excitement in my heart bubbled over.
“What? Pearls. Really?” O Soul, did you hear that? Real pearls.
“They’re imperfect. But they’re real. I could afford them.”
I opened the little delicate white bag held secure by the white satin ribbon and pulled out the string of pearls–a necklace and a bracelet. Real pearls.
They were beautiful. They weren’t circular shaped like most I’ve seen. They were different. Thin. Long. Scarred. And they wore the name “pearl” perfectly with the pearly texture.
I put the necklace around my neck and tightened the clasp securely. The bracelet slid over my hand and onto my wrist. Perfectly imperfect.
Do you ever feel different? Imperfect?
Do you ever want to stay hidden in the drawer, in the closet, because of your imperfections?
O Soul, I know you do. You know you do.
It’s okay to be imperfect because it’s okay to be real.
Put it on. Latch the clasp securely. Wear it proudly. Wear your imperfections perfectly. O Soul, you can’t afford to be anything different. Because we live in a world of imperfection. And O Soul, people need to see real.