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.

Surreal dream wakes, shakes me; which is reality, which is dream?
Would you secretly kill someone to get what you want the most?
Asking wrong questions keeps us trapped with the wrong answers
Would you be glad or ashamed if others could read your thoughts?
Childhood programming trains us to wait for authority’s permission
Time to face facts: Most people don’t really want individual liberty
Would getting away from civilization help us live better?
Winners and losers: After Iowa, where do GOP candidates stand?