In the US we are influenced by so many things. People, media, society, culture and families to name a few. People want to thrust their opinions on you; the media wants to have total control of what is said. Society tells us that we need to be perfect in order to be worth anything, culture tells us you need to know where you are from but not be afraid to conform to what’s around you. Family beliefs make it hard to have your own beliefs.
In the US,
You don’t buy something unless it is perfect.
You don’t buy stained or ripped clothes.
You don’t buy food after the expiration date.
If your floor is uneven you fix it.
If your chair wobbles, you put it on the curb.
What good is a chair if it wobbles, if it’s not straight or cracked? The US has shaped my beliefs completely. When I see anything, let alone a chair that is less than perfect, my first thought is “Is there a quick fix?” or “Is it worth even keeping?” Why would you keep something that is broken, especially a chair that could collapse?
These were my thought before the Race. This story changed my perspective.
I was sitting in church the other night, more focused on the fact that I couldn’t understand what was being said than praying or worshiping my own way. There was a young boy standing in front of me by a small chair. He couldn’t have been more than 5 years old, he was completely focused worshiping his heart out. When he went to sit down his chair wobbled underneath him. He grabbed my leg to help him balance, looking down he saw the “problem”. The chair legs weren’t all the same length, one leg was much shorter than the others, causing him to be unbalanced.
I pointed to an empty chair next to him so he could trade chairs and not worry about wobbling. Instead he stood up rocked the chair back and forth to see just how uneven the chair was. Then he walked into the grass looking for something. He came back with a rock…
Not going to lie, I stared at him really confused. How was a rock going to help his chair situation?
Why didn’t he want to just take the chair that I was offering? Clearly the chair is no good in the moment and it’s not like we can change the leg right now.
The boy brought the rock back and bent down to look at the chair leg. What I thought was the “problem” was simply a quick fix. A rock. He stuck a rock under one leg, gave the chair a little shake and plopped down in the same seat. Turning he gave me a smile.
This 5 year old taught me so much in the span of 2 minutes. My definition of broken is not the same as the worlds definition. This got me thinking, what is actually broken in the world? Since leaving the US I have seen pieces of chairs be used for another chair, or to help hold up a wall. I have seen cooking oil work as WD40 and be used to get lice out of hair. I have seen toy cars with only 3 wheels bring more joy to a child than a car with 4 wheels. A barbie with no head is equally as loved as a barbie straight from the box.
So why in the US do we only accept perfection?
Why does perfection signify good and bad?
Why doesn’t loved, well worn and antique also mean perfection in the US?
