“You’re amazing…I just wanted to tell you that, because I doubt that it’s something you hear too often.” This perfectly imperfect woman, beaten up by voices she carries around in her head. Voices that tell her she is not good enough, not pretty enough, not lovable. Voices she has believed through her life, filling her with self-doubt and given credibility by the harshness of another person’s weakness.

A little girl, holding her Raggedy Ann on her 8th birthday. I’ll bet she did not realize Raggedy Ann would become symbolic of a tattered life, filled with pieces of loveliness and brokenness, wrapped up like the presents surrounding her 8th birthday cake. When we are told enough that we do not matter, we are insignificant, unlovable, we begin to believe. “I’m sorry for the ways I have failed you…see, I was working on me. I never meant to leave you behind. The weight of your need was too great for my smallness.”. “I wish I could fix what is broken inside of you, just like I wish I could fix what is broken inside of myself, but I can’t.” All these bruised up places, only God can fix.

There is perfection in imperfection. There is One who Perfectly loves our imperfection. One who lifts up Raggedy Ann’s like you and me—all tattered with loveliness and brokenness. One who will never leave you nor forsake you—who is and was. One who was there with the little girl in each of us when times were scary, when mama bandaged bruised knees and hearts. One who was there on our first dates and first kisses. One who knew we were making mistakes and let us make them anyway, cuz life is about learning from our mistakes.

When we see ourselves in the Light of Christ, the shackles of heaviness fall to the wayside. We are filled with child-like wonder…the wonder that we missed as kids trying to make our way through the perplexities of life, trusting and getting broken, learning and hurting. Smooth edges become rough edges through ups and downs and the curves of life, then we come full circle, rounded again as we lean further into the One who knows our secrets and loves us anyway. One who loves our perfect imperfection because he created us, perfectly imperfect.

If I leave nothing else behind in this life, I pray that I leave a trail of hope. Hope that you can walk through years and puddles of tears, toward the One who can carry your burdens and mend all the broken places. Hope that you walk in the sunlight of His voice, rather than voices of judgment, voices that would bind the beauty of your soul, bursting to be set free. Come, walk with me…let’s walk toward the Son. Take my hand, you perfectly imperfect creature. Yes, you, Raggedy Ann. His Glory shines as we shed the weight of imprisoned and impoverished self-image. Do you see it? Look up and walk toward the Glory. Your soul is finally free!

You and me…both perfectly imperfect, both loved and warmly embraced in the palm of the One. “You’re amazing”, he says. Raggedy Ann meets Abba, Father and he fixes up all the bruised up places.