Photo Credit: Hannah Anderson
I've written a few blog posts on mean people. But then I thought today, "You know what, it's time to write about the nice people."
So before I start on my lovefest for kind and humble people, I will point out this. It seems some mean people have snuck their way into my inner circle. Hmm. Sheisty. I'm not quite sure how to let them go, since they've defined themselves as friends, even good friends of mine. But I'm constantly having to guard my heart around such individuals. They lack gravitas in compassion. They know compassion on it's surface, but not deep down. Don't worry though, it's only about 2 people that fit this description. If you're fearful it might be you, well--it very well could be. But I highly doubt it. My frenemies don't usually read my blog. At least that's what they tell me...
But although I'm quick to rid my life of all negativity and negative people, I'll never forget this sermon I heard years back stating that there's purpose in every Judas in your life. Meaning that death would occur, but so would the resurrection.
Yes, once again, God working all things together for my good. I didn't just make that up for myself, by the way (Romans 8:28) that goes for you too.
Okay. So back to my absolute adoration for kind, nice, tenderhearted, and humble people. I recently went to a wedding shower, where literally every single lady (Mostly in their 20s) was so unbelievably kind and wonderful. I felt like I had stepped into some sort of Vortex. I mean, these girls were not catty, were not reclusive, great conversationalists, full of wisdom, had nothing to prove, no chips on their shoulders, smiled a lot, and were not socially awkward. And then I look at the girl that we are all celebrating and it becomes obvious. This celebrated girl is much wiser than we have ever thought. She sent out a clear signal of love and kindness as a brave human being and now it seems as though her signal had been richly answered.
I love you nice people. I love you so much. You make me so happy. And every time I meet a nice person, I'm very aware that they too, have a story. A rich story to tell. Perhaps they've undergone extreme abuse, walked out of a lifestyle of anger, the list goes on and on. It's often that the nice people are the bravest of us all--
Making themselves vulnerable. Leaving their prickly stone cold armor at home. Their heart undefended. Open for you to either hug them or stab them. Brave.
I'm a sucker for nice people that happen to be guys. Often it is said that nice guys finish last. Lies. I was raised by a nice man. Let me explain that even further. My stepdad raised me since I was 3 years old. I was another man's child, but he never treated me as such. He's the only dad I know. He loved me like his own. So much so, that I didn't even realize he wasn't my biological father until I got to junior high. (My mom told me when I was younger that he was my 'Stepdad' but I had no real clue as to what that meant until later in my life).
And because I had such a good dad. I figure it would be a pretty good idea to marry a nice guy (with swag of course).
Strong comes in different forms.