|Written by Administrator|
|Thursday, 13 September 2012 21:04|
Months ago, I received a private Facebook message from Kristin.
I first met Kristin at an early-childhood-pta group in Cleveland (SECPTA). The group was founded by Kristin and her friends to give moms of preschoolers things to do. As she was leaving the group because her children were beginning elementary school, I was just dipping my toes into it. Our days were filled with fieldtrips around Cleveland, soccer leagues for two year olds, toddler t-ball games, evening motivational speakers, playgroups and bookclubs. The group was very dear to my heart but I only knew Kristin briefly as our paths never really crossed because of the age differences in our children. However I always looked up to her - she seemed so knowledgeable, so calm, so mature, so much more put together than I was with my three children under five years old at the time. Time passed and years later through Facebook we re-connected. My children were in elementary school and hers on the verge of highschool.
In May (in the middle of changing our career paths, taking a leap of faith and uprooting our family to Chicago) Kristin sent me a message and it changed me forever. The subject of the very-long-and-touching message isn't important to this story, my dear readers, but the way she ended it has shaped me to become more honest in my everyday life. She had written, "Sorry about the total dorkiness of this message, but I'm at the point where I don't really care what people think.... I just want you to know that you're awesome."
Once again, after many years, I found myself in awe of Kristin. The words written in Kristin's signature silly nature weren't super profound; but, they were simple and stately and so important to me. After reading her Facebook message I turned to my husband and said, "You know what? I'm going to be more honest from now on and tell people that I appreciate them. Who cares if I look like a dork!" I said. After an entire evening of reminiscing about the past, where we admitted that we should have told people how much we admired them (like Grandma) more often, we made a promise together. "We should tell people we appreciate them without feeling silly."
It worked for me when I dropped of Feenie for her first playdate in Chicago. Instead of saying, "Thanks for having her over!" and dropping her off, I remembered Kristin's message and could've cared less how silly I looked as I said, "Thanks for having Feenie over. This is her very first playdate in Chicago and we are so excited to make new friends! She even changed twice! I won't mention how many times she talked about coming over here. Thanks for having us over, we appreciate it so much." We now have a weekly playdate.
The husband is in a new dental office in downtown Chicago and his receptionist has been asking patients about their experiences. They all came back glowing; however, no one said anything directly to the dentist. One day my husband was standing in the background, as one of his patients spoke highly of him in front of the receptionist and the receptionist finally said, "Why don't you tell the Doctor what you think, he is right here." After an exchange of kind words my husband blushed, as did the patient. In so many words he said, "Thank you! I really appreciate you taking the time to tell me how you feel. It's nice to tell people that they are appreciated."
Thanks to Kristin we've been more honest with everyone that crosses our path and we don't worry how silly we look when we tell people how much they are appreciated. The best part of it all is to see people smile out loud.
|Last Updated on Friday, 14 September 2012 09:09|