On her 50th wedding anniversary, a woman revealed the secret of her
long and happy marriage. She said, "On my wedding day, I decided to
make a list of ten of my husband's faults which, for the sake of the
marriage, I would overlook."
One of her guests asked her what some of the faults she chose to
overlook were. "To tell you the truth," she replied, "I never did
get around to making that list. But whenever my husband did
something that made me hopping mad, I would say to myself, 'Lucky
for him that's one of the ten!'"
It's nice to decide what to overlook. In relationships, I get plenty
of practice overlooking the foibles of other people. And I suspect
they get plenty of practice with me, too.
As they hung wallpaper together, one husband became frustrated with
his wife. She seemed, to him, to be indifferent about the quality of
her work. He felt she was doing a poor job. He finally put it into
words this way: "The problem is that I'm a perfectionist and you're
not."
"Exactly!" she replied. "That's why you married me and I married
you!"
Miss Perfect certainly did one thing well. She knew how to overlook
annoying observations from her perfectionist husband.
We human beings are nothing if not flawed and imperfect. But, the
point is, people are not meant to without blemish. We're scraped and
scarred, flawed on the inside and marred on outside. It's just the
way we are. (Sometimes I think it's one of our more endearing
qualities.) I never want to forget that "perfect" is only found in
the dictionary.
Even pottery may be closer to perfection than we humans, if Belleek
Pottery in Ireland is any example. I hear that every finished piece
there undergoes a final inspection. It is held up to a fierce,
bright light and examined for imperfections. If even the slightest
flaw is detected, the cup or plate or vase or sugar bowl is smashed
to pieces. That's right. The blemished piece is never sold as a
"second." If Belleek pottery is not flawless, it is reckoned to be
no good at all. No doubt other makers of fine china and crystal
operate the same way.
I surely cannot stand up to that kind of scrutiny. I have flaws I
haven't even begun to explore yet.
How much pain prompted the words of that sensitive artist Vincent
van Gogh when he lamented, "I wish they would only take me as I am."
How many times a day are those words repeated by countless people
feeling the sting of rejection? To be accepted as one is and not
discarded as useless is more than just a wish, it is a deep, human
need.
All of us sport an invisible sign around our necks -- "AS IS." It
means, take me as I am. I may not become what you want me to be. And
I'm far, far from perfect. But I have some great qualities, too, as
well as my share of faults. You will have to take me "AS IS" and
I'll take you that way, too.
AS IS will be the best guarantee any of us can offer. But quite
frankly, most of the time we're getting a pretty good deal.
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