Western culture loves perfection. Anything that’s imperfect is rejected or at least offered at a steep discount. When someone asks about a newborn baby, you might hear the cliche, “He has all his fingers and toes.”
In our culture of mass production, we judge quality by how perfectly the widgets pressed out of industrial machinery match each other. It doesn’t matter how boring or soulless or poorly designed a thing is. It’s a quality item if it matches its specifications.
I grew up steeped in that culture of perfection, but the more of life that I experience, the more I’ve found beauty in a kind of imperfection that comes only from brokenness.

Hope can be dangerous when the path ahead is dark and uncertain
My ideal woman will never exist, but I keep falling in love with her
They won’t listen to arguments; they might listen to honest art
You’re wrong! And if you don’t agree with me, you’re an evil, lying moron
What’s the point of a secret crush if heart isn’t ready to accept love?
We’re great at making big plans, but God laughs at our intentions
‘Conservative’ and ‘liberal’ should refer to temperament, not politics
Trump apologists hope you don’t even know about the golden calf