Imperfect Authenticity

Posted by LaTara on October 11, 2008

Over the last few months I have watched many women talk about what they do not like about themselves. They strive to become these perfect specimens by getting things tucked, sucked, and cut this way or that. Cosmetic surgery has become a billion dollar industry; and while I think it does have its place, it is not the answer to loving, or even liking yourself.

I have learned to come to grips with my imperfections and I know that they are a part of who LaTara is. I am a perfect imperfection with dents, bumps, and bruises. I understand that there are no perfect people- though there are many who want to believe they are. And you know what? They are perfect…but now in the way they may think.

God made each of us with a unique pattern. No two people are alike - not even twins. There is always something different. Now to the human eye some of these differences may appear to be imperfect, quirky, and down right strange. In some cases they are really strange, but God always has a reason for giving His children the characteristics, traits, DNA makeup, or looks they may have.

We, in our human frailty, look at others and ourselves and judge what we think we see; but assumption and perception can really get in the way of truly seeing who a person is. Sometimes we have to see beyond what appears and ask God to reveal what really is.

When I first accepted Christ in 1989, I was a lost child. I was partying 7 days a week (the strip club was my venue of choice back then), drinking rum and coke, long island iced teas, and straight shots of tequila on occasion; dating drug dealers and other thugs, and doing things with men that I just had no business doing. Even after accepting Christ, that lure of the street was still strong in my life. I did not break up with my drug dealing man and I still went to see “Dream” and “Hercules” do their thing on the $2 drink nights at the club I frequented and then go hang out with them at the local Denny’s until 2 or 3 in the morning. And get this, I held a full time job.

One day after church, my pastor came up to me and told me that he wanted me to take over the young women’s ministry. I thought the man was crazy and told him so. Shoot, I was waiting on church to end so that I could go get some sleep and get ready to party that night with my girls. As-a-matter-of-fact, I had been out the night before too. He looked and me and said that God has something for me to do and that he was told to offer the position to me. Something within me said yes and as I walked out the church, I thought to myself, ‘What in the h___ did I just do?”

I did not see myself as God had showed him. Often times over the next 14 years of being a part of the church, my pastor often challenged me, never judged me, and always supported me. Even when I became pregnant out of wedlock, he did not stop loving me and being there for me. He told me to keep going forward with what God has for me. I was in leadership and a teacher there for most of my stay at the church.

It took me a long time to see me for me and to accept who I was. That is a part of being authentic - accepting those areas of your life that are not perfect. Being authentic means that you know your feet may be flat or your nose a little wide but you love you anyway, knowing that what God has for you is for you.

Can I list a few of the things about me that I thing are imperfect but  I accept as my imperfect perfections:

• I have stretchmarks
• I am anal about things looking a certain way and having some sort of order.
• I have a huge kool aide smile with rabbit looking teeth
• I am not photogenic
• I have big flat feet
• I have moles on my face and body. One is one my neck and wearing a necklace can be painful.
• My lips are dark and so are my gums.
• My forehead…HUGE!
• My nose is wide
• I often sing a little loudly as I walk down the street
• I have a butt that says hello in a BIG way and my hips are not that far behind.

Those are only a few but for years many of things bothered me. Why didn’t I have small feet like my sister? Why did I inherit the butt and moles from my father’s side of the family? Why do I have to have things in order -not perfect order, but some sort of order? Why, why, why?

For years I would ask these questions. But now I am able to rest in the words from my pastor and I move forward with what God has for me to do. I now look in the mirror and see a woman who is a beautiful specimen created for definite destiny. In Africa I would be deemed a Queen. In God eye I am a perfect imperfection with so much to give the world.

So I smile wide, wear my size 10 shoes with pride, and still sing as I walk down the street.

What are some of your perfect imperfections?

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