Skip to main content

Believe People. Believe, People!

So my brother was told this week by a friend (a friend, I might add, that he made only a few months ago) that he is the one who taught her unconditional love. Before him, she claims, she has never felt unconditionally loved. Note, my brother and this young lady are friends, no otherwise interest. But his friendship has meant something profound to her. I really look up to my brother for embodying that.

However, as my mom, brother and I chatted about this experience, we all felt a little melancholy that he was the first to show her that. Hearing a little more about her difficult life, it made a little more sense. But it still wrenched our hearts a mite.

I was reminded of a friend I used to work with. We worked together for about 8 months, we spent several hours a day together--often one-on-one--during that time. On my last day of work, she turned to me and said, "Mikayla, when I first met you I didn't trust you. I thought you were way too happy and way too nice all the time. I thought you must want something from people, and you were just being kind to them to get something out of them, to use them. But after a few months, I thought it must be exhausting to pretend to be that nice all the time. I realized you were real. You're one of the most down to earth people I've ever met."

I was bashful. In the same moment I felt both deeply appreciated and quite sick to my stomach.

The thing is, guys, I was honestly just being myself. I try to live by a motto of choosing kindness and refraining from anger, but I am no Mother Teresa and I have a long way to go. Honestly, I wasn't going out of my way for her. Soft tones, asking about people's days, remembering details about their lives--it's just a part of my social routine. I PERSONALLY KNOW DOZENS, PROBABLY HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE THAT DO THAT. Isn't it normal? It broke my heart that she didn't have that practice shown her regularly in her repertoire of family, friends, acquaintances.

Between my brother's experience and my flashback to my own friend, I've been thinking today how important it is to BELIEVE PEOPLE. Believe it when someone is being kind to you that they really mean it. Believe when someone gives you a gift that it's a sincere gesture. Believe when someone tells you they're sorry, or that they forgot and are trying to remember better next time. Believe people. But also, be worthy of being believed in. Give people a kindness and a love to believe in, ESPECIALLY the people dearest to you--your family and your friends.

I know there's a number of ill-willed phonies out there. I've been cheated by my fair share of rotten rapscallions before. But I just can't abide the thought of living my live suspecting everyone of it.

Believe people. BELIEVE, PEOPLE!

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Problem with Chick Flicks.

I really, really, really enjoy a select few movies that I willingly watch over and over again. Pride and Prejudice is one of them. You see, Elizabeth's defense of her family, her sense of self respect, her ability to admit that she was wrong and to appreciate Darcy despite all his quirks, and quizzical brow-ness... it's marvelous. My husband doesn't share the sentiment, could you tell? ... and that's okay. There's rare a chick flick I enjoy near as much as I enjoy Pride and Prejudice or A Walk To Remember , and I wanted to explain why. You see, there's more than just a few problems with (many, not all) chick flicks:  (and if you have a chick flick that escapes many of these pitfalls then please oh please leave it's title in the comment section!) The heroine (or suitor) is less than honorable. I have a hard time rooting for a girl to get a gentleman when she's spending her time being scandalously loose with other men ( #thenotebook) . An...
10 comments
Read more

Where's Number Three

A neighbor in her mid-thirties. A woman in her seventies. Their single commonality? They both asked me: Where's number three? I have a son, his name Charlie And then McKay, he's not quite three In my heart, both fit perfectly Yet others ask: Where's number three? Perhaps it's that I miscarried, My spouse's infidelity, The ache of infertility, A battle raging mentally, Illness on a crippling spree, Our family is complete, maybe. The reason's one or more of these, Yet you dare ask: Where's number three? In this question, running free Are judgements, jeering icily "You're not enough, Mik, can't you see? Buck up and give us number three!" I used to flounder, squirm, agree Or curl up small, cry, and plead. With time, I've seen things differently. I won't explain for number three. The questions of maternity Are just between my spouse and me And Parents, guiding Heavenly So please don't ask: Where's number three? Artwork Credit: Be...
4 comments
Read more

A Year and 10 Days Ago

Dear Friends, Family, Acquaintances, and you lovely random passerby of the Blogosphere-- A year and 10 days ago I set out on a journey to write a blog post a day, for two months straight. I did that successfully, and then decided to extend my challenge to a one-year challenge. My report? I wrote 317 blog posts in a 365-day period. And I think that's pretty rad. A few reflections on this experience: Firstly, I started this blog not just because I love writing, but because I needed help. I was suffering from some intense postpartum anxiety, but I didn't know that's what it was at the time. Every moment of every day I felt like I was under severe stress and pressure, even when there were no evident triggers for such. The feeling in my gut on an almost constant basis felt like the queasy stomach, racing heartbeat, and unsettled mind that greeted me before every math test and job interview I've had growing up. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know how...
8 comments
Read more