Hygge

 

On our way to the hospital to visit my aunt on Saturday, 

My parents and I played a game called Hygge. 

It’s less of a game than a discussion starter, 

But I really enjoy it—

Especially on road trips. 

We answered the following questions: 

What song always makes you tear up? (Throwing in the Towel from The Outsiders)

If you could know when and how you were going to die, would you want to know? (Yes)

Do you know how your grandparents met? (College and set up date)

If you could see into the future, how far would you look? (10 years)

Is it okay to lie to spare someone’s feelings? (Yep)

What compliment has stuck with you? 

 

It’s this last question that I keep pondering. 

 

It’s funny. 

Words of affirmation are like fuel to me. 

I thrive on them and when I do not receive them for too long of a time, 

I feel under-appreciated, unvalued, and off-balance. 

Likewise, words of condemnation destroy me. 

They cut to my core, weigh me down, and plant themselves into my psyche and self-talk like they are absolute truth. 

 

I have files of words of affirmation—

Real, tangible files and electronic files. 

I seldom go back and read them, 

But when I do, they mean a lot to me. 

 

I have files of condemnation too—

Electronic files of words that temporarily shattered me. 

Oddly enough, especially when I’m already feeling bad,

I go back and read them. 

I don’t know why I do this. 

I’m not one to kick a dog while it’s down. 

But I kick myself

By rereading words I’ve pretty much already memorized. 

 

But the words of affirmation?

I don’t have them memorized. 

I could only think of one specific statement when mom asked the question on Saturday: 

 

“Even if you knew there wasn’t a God, you’d still believe.”

 

I don’t know if that’s a compliment. 

But it’s the truth. 

And I’ll take it. 

Because somehow I do believe. 

 

Amen.