A Social Experiment

Do you know why I don't sneer/slow down/speed up/or otherwise become obnoxious when a speeding car goes flying around me?

Because I don't know if they're headed to the hospital. And heaven forbid my false sense of superiority come between the driver and someone they value.

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I was talking earlier with someone about a gal we both know. We'll call her Jane. She's in her early twenties, is as sweet and naive as can be, and has been horribly mentally & emotionally abused. She was kicked out of her home by her mother 3 separate times, the first time when she was 12. She has been manipulated to no end. She is on her own now, working, going to school, and is very recently engaged to a sweet young man ("Joe").

And the friend I was speaking with about Jane said this of her new fiance, "I know one thing - I know that all Joe has to do is listen to her and say a few nice things to her and she will do anything for him."

And I literally laughed and grimaced at the same time. (And there's not enough photo-editing software to fix that resulting mess.)

Her heart, her soul is so desperate to hear that she's loved, that she's beautiful, that she's doing a good job, that {she matters}, that what some of us take for granted, or expect even, is like water in the desert for Jane.

This part of the conversation brought us to the social experiments Hitler would perform. More specifically - the ones he did on infants and the effect lack of touch/affection had on them. (I'm an intellectual...obviously. Sorry, I joke when I'm uncomfortable.) And those babies who were fed but not held, clothed but not talked to, cleaned but not loved...died.

{Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around."}
Leo Buscaglia

It is not merely good for our egos to hear good things about ourselves. A hug is not merely a welcoming gesture. It is not merely to keep our fingers warm when we hold hands with another.

It is a physical necessity. Because we need to feel valuable. To live.

I've decided to act on something that's been taking up space in my sad little highly intellectual brain. I want to write about the people in my world, and why they're valuable to me. I want them to know. And I want someone else to know, too. I'm not sure how I'll start or who I'll choose or how many days there will be between posts, but I'm going to dive in.

(It's probably fair to forewarn you that I will include a picture of whomever I love on in my post. It will be one that I chose that I think captures that person. If it ends up being you, there will be no complaining, just knowing that you are valuable and beautiful.)