Damaged Goods

I am damaged goods.  I used to look for perfection and avoided damaged goods.  I wanted the perfect girl friend, A Miss America.  I wanted the perfect job with lots of money and praise.  I wanted to live in the perfect town.  That I got when I lived in San Francisco.  But whatever I had it was not enough. I gave up on perfection.  I was not so perfect.  I enjoyed not so perfect people.  I have a rather wonderful job.  It is one I got even though I was damaged goods.  I am a priest who does not have to go to meetings, deal in finance or personnel, and gets to talk about things I enjoy.  If God does not mind damaged goods, why should I?  I sit here in a diaper and smile.  I think maybe I am more lovable as I am than when I try to be perfect.  I think maybe everyone is, but this is just my opinion.  As we age, I think we have to laugh more.  Perfection is beyond me.  How about you?