As I was walking among the green grass and white headstones today, some thoughts began to brew. I was thinking how I absolutely loved coming through the door of this old familiar house and how grandpa would always be right there waiting for us. He'd give me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek and say in his old, well seasoned voice, "Oooooh Lindsey, so good to see you. So good to see you. How you doin?" And then we'd sit down and talk.
Anyway, I was thinking how death enshrines people in a cloud of perfection. For some reason, when one is physically lifted from the grid of the earth, so are all their flaws, their wrong doings, their short comings. Instantly they have graduated to the level of saint, or something like that. But these are the same people who were alive a minute or a day or a year ago. And at that time, their imperfections drove me crazy. Small, insignificant imperfections became a root in my heart which grew into hatred, selfishness and pride.
I don't really know how to voice my thoughts clearly but I think what I am trying to say is this: I want to see people in their perfection right now. I want to know the people I am surrounded by for the beauty that is inside them. I want to see right over all the insignificant deficiencies and appreciate the real life that comes through. If it is impossible to see over those naturally, I want to learn to look over these by choice, momently.
People are beautiful and I want to see all as perfect, in imperfection.