Perfect Imperfection

My Sixth Grade son, Sam, needed to make a box out of paper for a class.  I am not really sure why.  I do not ask many questions.  I just report to duty, when needed.

Sam was making good progress on his own.  He found an origami channel on YouTube.  It provided step-by-step “How to make a box” instructions, although at a really fast pace.  Turns out too fast for Dad.

Sam was folding away and then called me in to help.  I asked to see the video.  The problem seemed to be at 1 minute 22 seconds into the video.  The teacher’s hands moved at a rapid pace on the screen.  My tired eyes kept replaying the same 5 seconds of video, over and over again.

Poor Sam grew frustrated.  Soon his hands were also flying across the screen.  Tensions grew.  We were both well on our way to “Why is he so stupid” level frustration.

Then by some miracle.  Some divine smile sent our way.  We folded, we tucked, we taped, and there before us sat a box made of paper.  A little crooked.  A little off plumb.

It did not matter.  Sam was happy.  He smiled and thanked me for my help.  Thank God, my Sam is not a perfectionist.  In that way, he is absolutely perfect.

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