I don’t believe in grace mostly. I believe in works, it goes with the name, Mr Perfect, which is not unearned. I’m more of the “cult of personality” type of guy. I’m sure deep down there is a nice guy, and I’m glad when by grace someone stays around to dig it out, casting aside the false assurity and bravado to reach the vulnerable little boy inside the walls. Those people are special.
They save me, keep me human, they are the true grace.
At work I’m a formidable person, people listen when I speak, I know lots of things. But as it says in the bible, no man is a profit in their own town, I’m paraphrasing of course, but that has always struck me as wise in ways beyond the biblical. Having seen you at your most human, most vulnerable, the magic of what you say is tinted by the thought of your humanity, your frailty.
To all those full of grace, I thank you from deep with in the protective shell of mr. Perfect.
© The Autobiography of Mr. Perfect, 2014
