Superlatives, deficiencies, and me.

Ever since I can remember, I've had lots of labels. Here are some of my favorites: Too sensitive. Too outspoken. Too free-spirited. Too passionate. Not thin enough. Not focused enough. Too naive. Too much of a rule breaker. Too bookish.

I've been thinking about these labels, and about how people live up to others' expectations of them. For example, my Papaw used to tell me I was special. That I was really going to be something someday. Unique. For awhile, I began to believe it. Maybe he did see something unique in me! Then he died. And so did my ability to live up to his expectations, if that makes sense. It was like his believing it made it true, somehow, and once he died it couldn't be true anymore.

Here's the thing about my husband, though: He doesn't try to make me fit into his expectations. He has never called me "too ____________" at all! Or made me feel like I'm not enough. He told me I was beautiful and desirable when I was 9 months pregnant, and when I was throwing up in the bathroom. He acts like my opinions really matter, and he discusses his with me. He tells me now, after 6 years of marriage and witnessing childbirth and all that stuff, that when I smile at him he feels like everything's going to be OK with the world. I'm not saying he thinks I'm perfect, by any means. He knows me very well. But his acceptance of me in spite of the way he knows me makes me feel so loved. So safe.

I'm thinking about this when I deal with other people, particularly children. Being loved is powerfully affecting. Renewing, even. I think it would not be naive to believe the best about others--especially if people live up to those expectations. It may just give someone else the opportunity to feel safe. Loved. Comfortable in his own skin.

I'm choosing to begin the school year this way. We'll see what happens.