Acting Without the Drama

October 24, 2009.  Tonight my wife and I put together an activity for our church.  It’s called a Trunk or Treat.  We get together to eat, have a chilli cook-off, cornbread, hot dogs, homemade root beer.

Then the real excitement starts.  All the adults open up and decorate the trunks of their cars and the kids go around to the cars as if they were houses.  Lots less walking.  Lots more candy.  Good times.

One of the families that are friends of ours came by our car.  They have a daughter that is the same age as our little girl, and she was dressed up like a princess.  I told her that she was adorable.  She looked up, smiled at me, tucked her hair behind her ear and said, “Why yes I am!  Thanks!”  She then got her candy and went on her way.

Adorable doesn’t even begin to cover it.

And I thought to myself, why on earth do we lose that?  Why can’t I say that I’m adorable without mentally cringing (or externally cringing, for that matter).  Any compliment I give myself feels like it has to come with a ton of qualifiers.

Don’t want anyone to think I’m too big for my britches.

But who exactly is this “anyone” I’m talking about?  If I acknowledge my own good qualitites, does that make me arrogant?  I’m pretty sure the answer is no.

I would like to be as confident as that little girl, accepting… no, embracing the wonderful things that make up the wonderful me.

I love me, and I don’t think I need to be shy about it. 

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