The Power of Kind Words

I barely remember the context and I don’t remember the name of the adult at all, but I remember what they said. I had received a teasing related to my height and they reminded me that diamonds are also small. They went on the tell me that if anyone made comments about my size to tell them,

“Remember good things come in small packages.”

That word of empowerment, delivered in genuine kindness stuck with me through many rounds of being called shortie, being told as a tween figure skater that I was too short to be either a ballerina or a model later, and later in high school, being told I made a good armrest, repeatedly, by people who thought it was funny and benign. Because of that one individual’s kind, empowering word, the other words and actions didn’t make inroads to my soul. Oh sure I decided on heels after I realized I could forego the armrest comments or the “You’re so cute,” in a ‘You’re so short in a cute way” comments with a simple addition of two inches. But that one person’s comments made all the difference in being able to weather the other ones relatively well. Of course when I am an old lady, I am sure I will be little and cute again. Maybe I will be like the patient my husband once had who, when told she needed to go to the hospital, affectionately hit him with her cane. But in my life as an adult in general thus far few people’s first reaction to me is to see or treat me in a diminutive way. I thank that adult for bringing out that ability to see myself and my value beyond my size or other peoples perception of it.

There was a young woman when I was an older child and young teen who also helped me tremendously by seeing me. She herself struggled with an eating disorder and didn’t have the easiest of circumstances. But she always was writing me these little notecards saying kind things about the light she saw in me. In my home life, the kinds of words I was experiencing were the opposite of this, for various reasons. My father, sadly, truly believed I didn’t love him if I forgot to turn off a light. As a spacey child who walked on their tip toes and was very ungrounded, this was unfortunate for us both. That is just one tiny example. I have so much compassion for my family, and for myself. I have not found myself able to even begin to try to explain how such well intentioned people could be so absolutely horrible in their impacts on me in a more comprehensive way - the only ones who have ever understood it have either been intuitive who got the download straight from spirit, or those who have seen it close up in the tiniest measures - and those who have, have wondered that I am as normal as I am. I thank that young woman, Kristy Marshall, for seeing the light in me, when otherwise, I think my lights would have gone out and I would have felt I had not other choice but to hate myself. I have a brother who died by suicide. It is the little things that people did along the way that made all the difference for me that I am here.

Are there still places in me that need more love, more acceptance, more liberation from the things that I survived during various aspects of my early life? Of course!

But because of two kind people who did things that aren’t hard to do, I am here, and able to do it, bit by bit, while shining my light.

Thank you to all of you who have added that goodness through your encouraging comments and your love.

Thank you for every person you take time to encourage, uplift, empower and support with a mirror the lovability, value and contributive gifts they have to bring!

You voice matters. Your love matters. The difference you make matters. And it waves.