Yesterday I went to see an exhibition of work by my favourite artist. He’s an Italian sculptor who lived 600 years ago and his name is Donatello. Like the turtle.

Although art historians aren’t supposed to say this sort of thing, I think he was the greatest artist who ever lived, in any medium, any time, anywhere. And I will fight any art historian who says otherwise.

So, the exhibition was a big deal for me.  In it, there was a miraculous marble carving of the baby Jesus with his mother, Mary. Actually, there were loads of them – the baby Jesus and his mother Mary were frankly massive in Italy 600 years ago – but this was one I’d seen before and loved, and marvelled at its economy of design, its crisply perfect execution, its intimacy and emotional insight.

And yet yesterday, as I marvelled again, it bothered me. Or, more specifically, the baby Jesus’ right foot bothered me. Because somehow, it didn’t work. Its relationship to the ankle was unsatisfactory. Its perspective was off. It was not clear.

It was, to use technical art historical language, a bit wonky.

Now I am not Donatello so I have no idea how the wonky foot might have been fixed, but what I do know is the one day Donatello looked at it, put down his chisel and decided it was good.

Christians believe that God did a similar thing: she looked at what she had made, which is to say us, and decided it was good. We were good.

And yet look at us. Look at the infinite, kaleidoscopically complicated, individually shambolic ways we are all wonky.

Now today is my last day of work before holiday so I am feeling, as I reckon most of us do before holiday, especially wonky, beaten up by the last months of work and bent out of shape.

And here, crucially, is the difference between Donatello and God; because part of what makes us good is that unlike marble baby Jesus, we are not finished. God has not simply put down her chisel and walked away. We are capable of restoration, refinement and repair.  We can be remade. It’s what holiday, whether it’s a day in front of the tv or a fortnight on the beach, is for.

So, when I come back, I will be different: refreshed and repaired. Recreated. Less wonky.

Because, unlike marble baby Jesus, we are a work-in-progress.

We’re good. But, mercifully, we’re not quite finished.

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The Christchild with the wonky foot is in Donatello’s Pazzi Madonna, now in the Bode Museum in Berlin.