Coming out of the restaurant she told me, “I love your hair! You look so sassy and smart!” The thank yous were still tumbling from my smile when she said, “But I guess that comes from the inside, doesn’t it..” My heart was smiling too.
Now, I consider myself pretty good at giving compliments, but this was something! She took “beautiful inside and out” to a whole new level. And she seemed as happy as I was, to give it. Bravo to the lady outside Martina’s Restaurant.
My mother was the first to teach me how to give a compliment. (And just by being herself, she gave me ample reason to want to.) She also taught me how to receive it, as the gift that is given.
It’s curious, we wouldn’t do it with a regular gift, refuse a birthday present let’s say. We wouldn’t put our hands out and say No! So why do so many do it with a compliment? “Oh no, not me,” or “not this old thing,” they’ll say, while backing themselves away. When really, thank you, is all that is needed. That is the reciprocal gift.
I’m still receiving this offering in the morning mirror. (Never underestimate the power of a compliment.) And I think the bar has been raised. So I challenge myself. I challenge you. Today, let’s give the compliments freely. (Even to ourselves.) And accept them with joy — so much joy that we have to bundle it and give it away again. Would that make us sassy? I don’t know, but it would make us smart!
I’m not sure I would have even met her if my brother hadn’t married her daughter. And yet, with this one choice, not made by me, she became family. She was just always there. My brother was now TomandRenae, (not just Tom), and Renae’s mom was now RoseAnn. As familiar as that, in one instant. She included us in every holiday meal. It took awhile for our unsteady hearts to believe that we weren’t being included, but we just belonged. This is what she gave us. How can that be anything other than family?
When I say her name, an image of a nurse comes into my head. The old-fashioned kind, (I don’t mean that in a bad way) – you know the image, white uniform, white stockings, white shoes, even the paper hat. There was something solid about that uniform. Something to lean on. I guess that is RoseAnn. Something solid. Something to lean on. Sometimes that can seem unapproachable, all this strength, but when you need it, and oh, sometimes we really need it, it’s good to stand beside all of that white. And there are surprises. Moments of vulnerability. An unexpected softness that invites you in. When the uniform is off. And we’re just people. Just gathering from the land of misfit toys for a wedding, or a thanksgiving. And it is something to believe in. Because you’ve seen every angle.
The first iconic image I passed in France was the Sainte Victoire. The mountain that Cezanne painted again and again. This giant white rock sits just outside of our home. Every day when I pass it, I say hello. Thank it for being solid. Constant. Beautiful. Even on rainy days, when the sides are dark, or when the clouds can make it almost disappear, I know it is there. That is comfort. Had I not met Dominique, I may never have known this certainty.
Small decisions join us. Bring us together. And we are stronger because of it – because of them. I wave to the Sainte Victoire this morning. I wave to RoseAnn. We are all in this together. We greet each other. We support each other. We lean on each other. It is beautiful. It is strong. It is something to believe in.
