I read this earlier in the week:
Perfect spaces, perfect people, perfect things – they are not real to me. Add a little wonkiness to a house, some mess to the waves of someone’s hair or a few tell-tale signs of age on items and they become more interesting to me. And usually more beautiful. Recently I read about Kintsugi – a Japanese art form that sees damaged items repaired with gold (or silver). Rather than throw away broken crockery or smooth over cracks in rendered walls, the imperfections are highlighted with gold leaf and sealed with lacquer, creating an interesting feature of a home or allowing a favourite plate to continue dishing out your meals – with a little bling on the side. The method humanises things – giving them some attention, patching them up and letting them continue on their merry way rather than just giving up on them at the first sign of a breakdown. It’s giving even the most ho-hum items a history, a story and a chance to shine. The Happy Home
How beautiful is that. Now that’s a language I understand.
A language of reclamation and second chances and never too broken.
For the least of, the worn out, the flawed, the done in.
I think maybe God knows a thing about Kintsugi – all of us a bit dinged up, with our chippy edges and bits worn thin. Even cracked right through in places
And of course we think it puts us out of the game, one of the ones to be kept for sentiment but of no real use, too damaged, not worth it, the fault lines too deep.
Except that they make room for gold.
And leave room for redemption.
They make space for the beautiful and transformative to happen, right there where the damage is. In the ravine a reworking of our hearts, a different story – a richer one, increase in the place we feel empty, filled – not thrown out.
“Courage usually shows up in the cracks” Micha Boyett
The cracks are where the grace gets in.
Where mercy does its work.
I know – we want to show our smooth undamaged side to each other but I’m not sure I’ve got one anymore and maybe that’s OK. We think that’s the best bit of us or maybe the acceptable bit, but truly the best bit is our own unique shape of imperfection and redemption and coming back from the brink all bumpy with scar lines but woven in with gold. That’s a story I want to hear, that’s the bit that shines, that has the power to reach others. Lets not hide ourselves away for want of perfection.
The real us, the real story ——- that’s where there’s gold.
I’ll leave you with this:
Love to you all today