This week, I’ve been fortunate to be surrounded by goodness. Gatherings, messages, connection, kindness, inclusion, and gosh, I love that stuff. It’s like fuel to me to be seen and known, appreciated and valued. And more, I love doing that for others, making them feel loved and seen, and I had a good bit of that this week, too, which was so, so nice.

But like a drop of ink into a glass of cool, clear water, I’ve also had the tiniest bit of what I will call passive rejection, and it’s making a hard attempt to color my heart. I don’t wish to let it. Passive rejection can look like an unanswered email, or a pasted-on smile. It can be an interaction about which you could easily put cartoon thought-bubbles overhead which might read all kinds of things but which looks like silent, polite judgment. The context is clear but so much is left unsaid that you leave it shaking your head at the chasm which has opened between people who used to love each other, and it’s sad and causes me to question myself in a way that is not helpful. I’ve kind of had enough of that stuff.

Give me the steady, honest, and true. Give me the sweet husband who will say it, the dear friend who will get deep, an honest disagreement between people who respect each other, the person who sees and expresses and values. I love it all. I’m really getting too old to take in the inky stain of disapproval from people who don’t have any idea who I am, anyway.   When I leave a part of my heart open to a person like that, I almost always take a direct hit, and I just can’t do that anymore.

So, cheers to the authentic and kind and open. Cheers to those whose words match their spirits and whose spirits are pure. Cheers to those who see and speak truth. You’re not perfect, and you own it, and how wonderful. The world is desperately in need of you. My world is, and you make everything so much better with your presence and willingness to become ever more yourself. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.


© my little epiphanies 2017 all rights reserved

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: