Saturday, February 27, 2010



"Know what I like about you?" Marlys asked me one afternoon.
"No, what?"
"You're an odd duck," she said. "And so am I."

Marlys  didn't like me because I was perfect. She liked me because I'm NOT.


Isn't it interesting that we try so hard to seek perfection, when the sweetest grins are the crooked ones, the most comfy shoes are almost worn out, the cosiest homes are just messy enough to be happy?

The hands that serve are the ones we treasure, loving every wrinkle and stain...

the places we long for are most are not palaces, but anywhere a loving heart waits...


I don't want to be perfect the way the world defines it because that seems so shallow to me.
I want to be the kindest neighbor, the most trustworthy confidante, the gentlest listener, the most supporting wife.

Let someone else be the pretty one, the rich one, the smart one.

I prefer friends who snort when they laugh.
Give me the dog someone abandoned on the side of the road.
Books with a crease to mark the best part.
A husband who laughs with me when I make mistakes.

Life's too short for anything but glorious imperfection.

Three cheers for those of us who believe there's no such thing as ordinary!


kimbuktu said...

What a lovely post, thanks.

jane maday said...

You know, Sharyn, if you ever get tired of creating wonderful art, you could be an equally wonderful writer! I love coming to your blog-it is so cosy and comforting. Lovely, just like you.