My son has a giant heart.
He is extremely empathetic and compassionate, always
trying to do the right thing, comfort someone in pain or
create something that will make someone else smile.
But he can be pretty hard on himself when he makes a mistake
or does something wrong. We try to teach him
the value of mistakes and the strength
that comes from working hard at something,
even when he's not the best at it, but failure
isn't something that comes easily to
any of us.
I'm not perfect. I can be hard on myself too and
sometimes take criticism to heart. But I'm realizing
this is a seed that was planted in me long ago,
when I was still learning what it meant to be a person in the world.
Instead of being nurtured in sunlight, that seed was watered
with sarcasm and guilt, and those things
became a part of me without my even knowing.
But as we grow and experience life beyond our own window boxes,
we gain perspective on things we were too afraid to question in our youth.
Or maybe it's the gift of distance that lets us see things on a greater, deeper scale.
Either way, I am actively seeking more self-compassion in my life.
I voice my needs and reach out when I need to.
I follow my gut and do things out of love, and,
more than anything, I nurture relationships with people in my life
who truly inspire and value me.
I am an endlessly messy, authentic, hopeful, flawed, brave and beautiful soul
with wings like an endless river stretching out against the sky,
wanting nothing more than to have meaningful conversations and
sprinkle hope into the world.
I have done the work, healed the dark places that
no bandage seemed big enough to cover.
I revealed myself ~ flaws and all ~ and found that the world
still loved and made space for me, the same way it now embraces my son.
Everyday I take another step toward, not perfection,
but, humanity perhaps. That is the ultimate tie that binds us and
yet somehow also sets us apart . . .