Today a
friend complimented me on my dress, to which the woman sitting next to her
added, "I feel like people could mistake you for an eight year old."
I tried not to show how much that stung, but instead replied, "Oh, they
do," plastering on what I hoped was a winning smile.
I
don’t think people realize how much their words can sting. How much they can
cut to the quick even when they don’t mean for them to be hurtful. I try to do
the owners of these words the honor of allowing them their ignorance, of giving
them the benefit of the doubt, of recognizing they’re only human, of cutting
them some slack and not letting their words breed grief in my heart, because maybe they never intended that. I try to give them the freedom to say the
broken things they think without letting them affect me. I want to give
everyone the opportunity to be human and unwittingly insensitive without
letting it change my mood. No one is perfect. No one should be expected to
watch their language 24/7 and know how their words will resound in another
person’s soul. No one can know that. I don’t expect that of anyone.
But
some days… Some days I wake up and feel raw. I feel more vulnerable. I feel
less steeled against the barrage of hurt that people hurl at each other as they
themselves try to make sense of their own vulnerability and helplessness. Today
was one of those days. Today the fact that someone callously invalidated my
adulthood and then recommended I enjoy it while I could sent me reeling for
longer than usual. Today I heard someone tell me that I should enjoy the baby
face that wins me no respect, the short legs that earn me no recognition among
my peers, the soft voice that gives me no advantage in the din of this world,
and the genuine lack of guile that many take for childishness, not heeding my
words when my intuition could make their lives easier or when my care could
soothe their wounds.
That
is not what she said. That is not what she meant. But ears hear words through
the rawness of the day, through the imperceptible vulnerability of the moment,
through the complex filter of directed prejudice echoing from the past and
present, reverberating amongst the cavernous ventricles of the heart. So that’s
what my ears heard.
It’s
at moments like these that I’m so grateful that the God of the universe loves
all of us more than we can comprehend with our finite minds. It’s at moments
like these that I’m awestruck by His unfailing, infinite, unerring kindness.
