drawing at the hearts of angels – 11/40

I love flaws.

Except my own, my own are completely unacceptable and make me a lesser person. 

The ones in others, especially those I love, captivate me.

That is not to say that I enjoy all of them, some of these flaws can drive me nuts and irritate me to no end, which always poses an interesting juxtaposition when there are flaws that delight me and I just enjoy them. And know that I only call them flaws because that is what these folks would call them.

The things about others peoples flaws (especially in those I love) is that I can see room for redemption. The flaws are a part of a path towards proving the divine greatness that I see in them, to me that is so supremely exciting and wonderful.

Of course there are also those flaws that they perceive in themselves which I don’t see at all… isn’t that such a vicious cycle?

My hose is flawed. It is old, very old when compared to other homes in the city in which awe live.

I really did not see how flawed it was until we started a little project to fix  up the outside (I didn’t think we needed it, but there you go). To me, my house and its curious eccentricities are lovely and delightful and while there are some that I see, I see it much as I do with people… you work on it a little at a time until it gets better… the only difference is that my house doesn’t hiss at me for noticing.

My wonderful front porch paradise, too bad you can’t see my
non-working fridge on it… because I love thinking I might be a hillbilly. 

One of the things I like having at my house is Christmas dinner. Though my in-laws have spoiled it for me in that they have taken over every year for several years and now hardly anyone seems inclined to help clean-up (it took us and a friend three days to get through washing them all) or serve food (instead of asking repeatedly when it will be ready) or anything that might be helpful (to be clear, I would not expect this from the ill or infirm)… which is not really a problem until I get so stressed out with requests(er.. demands) for things (like my box of champagne glasses that are packed away in the basement because you decided to bring some at the last minute) while I am trying to handle getting platters filled and food prepared. Well, this year I apparently won’t get to have it at my home, the privilege was taken away from me because I was apparently too snippy this past Christmas dinner. I am sure my family is grateful and thank you for meeting my only concession that all my guests get to come to wherever it is held next. 

HOWEVER (it is a big enough of one that it deserves screaming all caps)

I will miss the sound of people laughing, the kind of sound that you can hear for days afterward when you wake up before anyone else and the silence wraps that sound in a soft blanket for me to feel comforted by in the days that follow… that is my kind of paradise… that is how my heart feels drawn.

“Certainly paradise, whatever, wherever it be, contains flaws. (paradisical flaws, if you like.) If it did not, it would be incapable of drawing the hearts of men or angels.”
~Henry Miller

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