She stood in front of me in the freezing snow, brushing off her car and telling me wonderfully kind things about the deepest parts of myself. She said most of them more than once while I stood there, awkward and uncertain. At a loss for the appropriate response to such thoughtful, sincere compliments. This particular friend is, and has always been, more than willing to be gracious in the face of my numerous quirks and awkward edges. As I drove home I rolled her words around my skull and wondered what on earth it is about a sincere compliment to my character (most especially an accurate one) that leaves me so flummoxed. I can say with both truth and frustration that unexpected kindess, both in word and deed, is more likely to unravel my few social graces than any harsh comment or rude act. My ability to accept or brush off unkindness is well developed. But a pure, unsolicited compliment? What am I supposed to do in response?
My choir teacher in high school drilled us repeatedly on smiling and saying thank you when someone gave positive feedback to a performance. "I don't want to hear any of you spouting off about the kid next to you screwing up when someone says well done. Say thank you. It's the polite, appropriate thing to say. Just thank you. And smile. I mean it!!!" She was a wonderful woman and a good teacher. I try to follow her advice in the broader spectrum of my life but when someone actually mentions anything to do with deep, heart level traits I freeze up. I don't know why.
Except that is probably a lie. I do know why but it scrapes my soul to say it. I freeze because it happens so rarely. Historically, I can think of very few compliments in this category being given. And all those I do remember came from the wrong people. Not wrong because there was anything wrong with them, just wrong because they were not the people I wanted to hear say such things. Not my parents or my brothers. Not the people I should have been able to count on to name those things in me, to help me nurture those places inside that were most me. They loved me, and I knew it. They still do. But they didn't say what I needed to hear, needed to know they saw. To know they noticed, paid attention. My brother did once, when I was in my late 20s, in an offhand sort of way at a family event. I was so shocked I didn't even insult him for it. "She doesn't even realize what makes her so rare. What she has that makes her so great." Considering this came from the same sibling who made large segments of my life an emotional hell I found it . . . startling. 6 years later I'm still startled. And if I mentioned it to him he'd be horrendously embarassed and blow me off entirely. It's how we roll in our little tribe.
****When I read this through again I realized I am giving the impression no kind words were ever said to me--that isn't true at all. I heard lots of praise for things I did well, or performed above expectation. It's just that they always seem to be comments about things I did, rather than who I was as a person.*****
So I'll keep trying to remember to say thank you and mean it and smile. Keep it simple, because it is easier to remember that way. And more than likely I'll freeze up again anyway the next time it happens. And I'll remember, always, that even when I feel most alone and unworthy there is a God who sees me and walks with me. And He has given me a an additional family who DO see me. The real me. And they don't even mock me for it. And I am so thankful.
