Member-only story
In All of My Imperfections
Fortunately, the lens through which we see ourselves evolves over time
My granddaughter is at the age where she is aware enough to notice imperfections, yet young enough to call them out without an ounce of malice.
“Grandma, you have something stuck to your tooth. You have to brush better.”
It was a denture clip.
I remember a story told to me by a male elementary school teacher who gave his best lecture to a 6-year-old who misbehaved. He was calm and insightful. He used his grandfatherly wisdom to teach the child a moral lesson. The child stared intently as he imparted words of wisdom destined to make this child a better person.
“Now, do you understand why what you did was wrong?” the teacher asked.
“You have long hairs growing out of your ears,” the student replied.
I remember the belly laugh in the faculty lounge when he retold the story, but as a younger teacher (at the time), I mostly admired his confidence and self-assuredness in telling it. He lived more freely than I did; he was not attached to the opinions of others.
With the wisdom of age, however, I can see how the ability to laugh at my imperfections is a blessing.
