Dings.

I am an Apple tech nerd. That is, I love most anything Apple produces. The technology is great, the user experience is fluid and intuitive, and the innovative physical design of their products has unparalleled elegance and beauty. So it was with great excitement last fall that I purchased my iPhone 5. Everything about it was amazing—even the box in which it was snugly surrounded. I carried it around with great care and caution, trying to preserve and protect its perfect appearance. Many people put their phones in some kind of ugly case, but I am a purist; I don’t like to compromise the intended design by dressing it in something gaudy. This thing was perfect, and it was going to remain perfect. But it didn’t.

Not long afterward, my sister and her husband generously took my wife and me to a Denver Broncos football game. I had never before been—I am not a huge fan of sports (I just don’t understand the maniacal fervor that surrounds them), but I was excited to spend time with them and experience something new. I had with me my new iPhone, held safely in the pocket of my pants where I normally protect it. Because the game was rather fun and exciting, I decided to take it out and grab a few memorable photos. However, I often missed good photo opportunities because I had to awkwardly dig around and remove it from my tight pocket. So, at a certain point, I decided to place it into the (shallow) pocket of my hoodie where it was far more convenient to grab.

At one point, something exciting happened (someone caught a ball or threw a ball or ran somewhere or was dancing or something—I don’t really know) and I jumped up along with the crowd to see what was going on. And then I heard it. Clink! Clink! Thud. My beautiful, elegant, perfect iPhone fell from my pocket, hit the railing on my chair, catching the corner of the concrete stair behind me. Ermahgerd. It was like one of those slow-motion scenes in a movie where time almost stands still. I thought for sure that I had shattered the glass and ruined my new baby.

Thankfully, the screen was fine. However, the body did not fare as well. The perfectly chamfered aluminum edge had sustained rather glaring dings in multiple places. The anodized black surface chipped and the once pristine appearance was forever changed. Dings. I was instantly deflated as my heart sank and disappointment quickly flooded me. I was bummed out—for a long time. But then, one day, I realized just how inconsequential that really was.

Is it okay to have nice things and to want to keep them as perfect as possible? Sure. Is it foolish to obsessively protect that thing to the point that when it does eventually (and it will) experience some kind of wear, it feels as though the world has stopped and lament consumes you? Most definitely.

Dings will happen. Dings are inevitable, regardless of how hard we try to avoid them. And, that’s okay. Trying to pursue and desperately cling to perfection is a losing game that keeps you from truly enjoying something and living in happiness.

My iPhone has dings. And my car has dings. And my home. And my body. My heart has dings. And my relationships as well. Some of these dings are unfortunate, but many of them are only cosmetic. The power of those dings lies in the fact that I am released from the stress of trying to maintain perfection. And when it comes to relational and emotional dings, I could sorrow over them, or I can choose to proudly view them as reminders of certain events in my life—events that I have learned from and can use as a guide to how I approach situations and make certain choices.

Now, when I feel the little divots on my iPhone, I choose to remember the fun day that I was blessed enough to spend with my family. I remember the new experience of the football game. I recall the laughs and the excitement and I smile. My dings have a story, and so do yours. Whether good or bad, you have the choice as to how the story of that particular nick or dent or hurt or heartbreak affects you. Embrace the unique character that dings provide. Stop lamenting perfection and live.