Is my family perfect?
Do I have a perfect family?
No.
There, the post is complete, and we could move on.
Just kidding. It’s an obvious truth: nobody is perfect. Such a thing doesn’t exist. Every person carries flaws, and every person also has their strengths.
Personality Traits
Candidly, when I can see my own flaws so clearly, how can I expect perfection from anyone else? But flaws — or as I prefer to call them, personality traits — don’t make someone a bad person. They merely tell us that they are human, just like us.
This topic often reminds me of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Paraphrasing this from memory…
Miss Bingley: “Mr. Darcy is a man without flaws.”
Elizabeth Bennet: “A man without flaws?” (smiles, amused at the flattery)
Mr. Darcy, uncomfortable beyond words: “Such a thing isn’t possible.”
Elizabeth Bennet, striking his pride: “Then tell me, what are your flaws?”
It’s such a small exchange, but I’ve always found it refreshing. Perhaps because Mr. Darcy is one of the most flawed protagonists in a romantic novel. Yet he remains one of the most beloved fictional romance characters — arguably ever.
Which only proves the point: perfection doesn’t exist. And perfection isn’t a criterion for love, or even for life.
My Family is perfect…
For the person I am…
For the situations I’ve been in…
For the purpose I seem to have taken on in this life…
My family is perfect… for me.
If I narrated my life story, someone else might see the “characters” very differently. They might judge them harshly, or sympathize in ways that don’t match my experience.
But unless you take my place in the story, you can’t see why something that looks like a bane from the outside could actually be a blessing.
Perspective changes everything. And that is why I can never thank my husband, my son, my parents, my monk-friend, and the many people who have crossed my path enough.
Not because they are flawless. Because they are… perfect for me.
Naive, Am I? Maybe.
People often call me naive. They assume I don’t know what is happening around me or behind my back. The truth is, there are many things I really don’t know or understand.
But there are also many things I do know — often because the divine has given me a strange kind of sight. A hawk’s eye, perhaps.
Still, knowing does not mean reacting. Many times, I simply choose to accept, forgive, and move on. And certainly not use what I know for my own advantage.
If that is what people call naivety, then yes — I suppose I am naive.
For all we know, that might actually be my strength. In fact, maybe even a superpower that keeps me going, no matter the situation.
Yet again, this just proves that imperfection can actually be a gift.
