Ancient Words

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ancient Near East, ancient texts, divination, Egypt, listening, Ptah-hotep, relationships, thoughts on life, wisdom

While exploring the ancient world there are many moments when I realize just how foreign the territory is, when I’m all to aware of my alien status, that I’m an outsider, unable to identify with the humans that lived oh so long ago. Like when I read these divination texts used for interpreting misformed births in sheep and goats:

If it has no spleen… the king will not obtain offspring…

And if it has no right ear, the enemy will devastate the land and will consume it.

And if it has no left ear, the king will devastate the land of his enemy and consume it.

And if its rear legs are short, our lord will confront the huradu-troops and Rasap will finish off the posterity.

And if its nose is like the ‘nose’ of a bird, the gods will destroy the land.

Or, likewise, when I read the Ugaritic liturgy against venomous reptiles it’s easy to shake my head in amazement. The ancients did what!? Early civilizations thought that!?

But every once in a while I come across ancient words that sink into my soul, words that suggest these early humans are not so different from modern mankind, words of wisdom that apply today as much as they did five thousand years ago. Philo of Alexandria‘s ancient words are one example, as is this instruction given by Vizier Ptah-hotep:

Ma’at [Justice] is great, and its appropriateness is lasting… If you are one to whom petition is made, be calm as you listen to the petitioner’s speech. Do not rebuff him before he has swept out his body or before he has said that for which he came. A petitioner likes attention to his words better than the fulfilling of that for which he came.

It’s great to feel heard. To know that attention has been given to your words–even if the listener is unable to grant the request. Ptah-hotep understood as much. His instruction on the importance of listening well survives the centuries and reaches to my ears. I will hear and I will listen. Ancient words!

Wielding Words Wisely

Tags

communication, kindness, Philo of Alexandria, relationships, thoughts on life, wisdom, words

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle.

–Philo of Alexandria

Communication. It can be complicated.

These days, I often feel foolish, mostly misunderstood, and even chastised in my attempts to address issues. I regret ever offering my insights. Irritated and edgy, I want to lash out. To use my words as a whip. To slap so-and-so with all the sarcastic sentences seething inside. A war rages within.

Alone in the Orange Room © by Kelly Dycavinu

Then I open a letter sent to me by a sweet stranger. In it I read: Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle.

Immediately I’m taken out of my own inner turmoil. I imagine the struggles, the conflicts, the complications of those around me. Those well-meaning and wonderful people. We all fight a great battle, but it’s not really against one another, is it?

Philo of Alexandria’s words are a gift I receive centuries after he speaks them. Rather than use my own words as a weapon, I wish to wield them as wisely, to give them as gifts.

Communication. It can be a kindness.

A complicated kindness.

Vulnerability: The Very Scary Thing

Tags

Christianity, emotions, faith, god, relationships, thoughts on life, vulnerability

He who conceals his disease cannot expect to be cured.

— Ethiopian Proverb

Vulnerability. It’s a hairy, thirteen-legged, monstrous beast that bites through bone, eats eyeballs and twisted intestines, and is most happy playing hacky sack with the heart.

A bit too dramatic or disgusting for you?

Vulnerability. It’s a scary thing!

No matter how deep or desperate our desire is to be known, we’ve learned from life that very scary things are bad and to be avoided at all costs. Self-preservation and protection takes priority.

But what if we’re wrong? What if our sensitivities are skewed?

Recently I’ve been reflecting on relationships and some specific circumstances in which I’ve seen relationships thrive or die. And I’ve come away with some (mostly personal) insights.

Do you ever find it easier to advocate on the behalf of others, to negotiate for needs that are not your own? I do. In fact, I feel quite competent in this capacity. But then, when it comes to advocating on my own behalf, all my strengths and sensibilities seem to slip away. It’s a very scary thing to ask for something good for myself, for something I need or want. Why?

Well, for me, expressing a need or desire is a vulnerable thing. It gives power to the other person. The power to reject the request, to disappoint, to deny. The power to control. The power to manipulate. The power to abuse or misuse. Knowing what a person needs, wants, or desires is knowing how and where to hurt them, to cause pain.

I’ve held this view of vulnerability for decades. Only recently did I come to realize the incomplete picture it portrays. Here’s the rest of it…

Expressing a need or a desire gives power to another person. It gives them the power to provide, to grant the request, to satisfy, to comply. The power to serve. The power to guide, shape and nurture. The power to please. The power to equip. Knowing what a person needs, wants, or desires is knowing how and where to help and to heal.

Vulnerability. What if the Very Scary Thing is actually a Great Good Thing? It’s a notion I’m just beginning to embrace.

How about you?

Any other insight to offer? Or experience to share?

Comments are welcome.

© 2013 Kelly Dycavinu, Popcorn with a Spoon. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © 2013 Kelly Dycavinu, Popcorn with a Spoon https://kellydycavinu.wordpress.com/

A Stranger’s Friend: The Refugee

Tags

advocacy, Christianity, compassion, faith, Journey Home Community, justice, opression, poor, refugee, relationships

Refugee.

It’s a seven-letter word that conjures a wide variety of feelings and associations for those who hear it. Try it.

Refugee.

What do you think or feel?

For some, there are feelings of uncertainty. What exactly is a refugee? In what ways are refugees different from immigrants? Refugee = Foreigner: someone from the outside, someone different and unknown. For others, there are feelings of anger. Why should we allow these foreigners into our country? They drain our welfare resources or take our jobs. Refugee = Leech: someone who sucks the life-blood out of a nation. And for others still, there are feelings of fear. What if we let in the wrong person? What if they are not who they say they are? Will our safety and security be compromised? Refugee = Terrorist: someone who wreaked havoc in their own country and has come to do the same in ours. For others, there are feelings of compassion, a sense of injustice. No one should lose their livelihood because of their ethnic origin. It’s not right that women and children suffer as people fight for political power. Something must be done to protect those in constant fear for their lives. Refugee = Victim: those who have been oppressed, poverty-stricken and denied their human rights.

Refugee.

For me, when I hear the word I feel guilt. I live a comfortable lifestyle. Refugees don’t. Add to the mix a sneaking suspicion my comfortable lifestyle is established and secured at the expense of some of these refugees. I feel fear. What would have to change in my life for me to create a positive change in the refugee cause? Am I willing to step beyond my comfort-zone, to make a sacrifice? I feel doubt. Even if I’m willing to try, what significance would come of my efforts? Can I navigate the political systems? Can I make a difference? I feel overwhelmed. There’s too much injustice in this world, please don’t talk to me about yet another social concern!

So what’s a person like me doing on the Board of Directors of Journey Home Community, an organization that assists refugee families and advocates on their behalf? Well…

My feelings of fear, guilt, and doubt certainly fail to motivate, but I’m called to action by what I know and believe.

I believe in a Creator, an Artist who designs with care and attention the deepest and most detailed aspects of a person’s being; and I believe in the inherent worth of every created being–of every man, woman and child.

For you created my inmost being;

you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

your works are wonderful,

I know that full well.

Psalm 139:13-14

 

I know my history. Once, my own people, my ancestors, were foreigners in a strange land.

‘Do not mistreat or oppress a foreigner, for you were foreigners in Egypt.’ Exodus 22:21

‘When a foreigner resides among you in your land, do not mistreat them. The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt. I am the Lord your God.’ Leviticus 19:33-34

I believe the following is music to the ears; a song to sing today and tomorrow as in yesterdays come and gone.

Defend the weak and the fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed. Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked. Psalm 82:3-4

I know what the Lord says.

This is what the Lord says: Do what is just and right. Rescue from the hand of the oppressor the one who has been robbed. Do no wrong or violence to the foreigner, the fatherless or the widow, and do not shed innocent blood in this place. Jeremiah 22:3

I believe there are some things that can make God both sad and mad.

The people of the land practice extortion and commit robbery; they oppress the poor and needy and mistreat the foreigner, denying them justice. Ezekiel 22:29

I know Jesus was a refugee.

After the wise men had gone, an angel from the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up! Hurry and take the child and his mother to Egypt! Stay there until I tell you to return, because Herod is looking for the child and wants to kill him.” That night, Joseph got up and took his wife and the child to Egypt, where they stayed until Herod died.  Matthew 2:13-15

I believe Jesus fulfills these words:

“The Spirit of the Lord is on me,

because he has anointed me

to proclaim good news to the poor.

He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners

and recovery of sight for the blind,

to set the oppressed free,”

Luke 4:18

 

I know a question to ask him.

‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and show you hospitality or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

I believe his response.

‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these you did for me.’ Matthew 25: 37-40

Refugee.

She smiles often. It’s a beautiful smile and I wish to seem as joyful as she. We talk as our sons play ninja, running up and down the hall. Two hours now and they show no signs of slowing down. Sweat-soaked and laughing, they kick and jump. Boys. We laugh at their antics. She talks of her husband. We share about the kids at school. But when she mentions her home country, sorrow steals the smile. There is pain. There is danger. There is no going back. And I hope she won’t have to.

It’s a whole different feeling when Refugee = Friend.

Shine Bright, Love Out Loud

Tags

acrylic, art, canvas, colour, emotions, grumpy, love, moods, painting, relationships, thoughts on life

Shine Bright, Love Out Loud copyright 2012 by Kelly Dycavinu

I created this piece for an upcoming art show entitled In Love With Colour.

I’m captivated by the phrase Love Out Loud and have been reflecting on what it might mean for a person to love out loud, the ways in which I love out loud and the ways in which I don’t. While I’m still musing on this, I do know that I long to be generous with love– to not be silenced by jealousy, anger, fear or insecurities… all the makings of a dark and dreary life. I’d rather shine bright so that the world for those around me is full of life and joy– and of colour!

I welcome your comments and feedback.

What do you think of when you hear the phrase ‘love out loud’? Do you know anyone that shines bright? And how so?

Productive Procrastinator

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blog, blogging, books, clean, deadline, deadlines, habits, life, lifestyle, organize, parenting, people, procrastinate, procrastination, productive, relationships, writing

Give me a deadline and I get things done.

Well, that is, I do anything and everything but that which is due.

I have three weeks before I must submit that assignment? Great! First I’ll just re-organize my kitchen cupboards. I’ve been meaning to relocate those plates to a more practical place. Oh, and while everything is out, I should wipe all the shelves.

Okay, done. Assignment time!

Oh, who am I kidding? I can’t concentrate. I scour the kids’ closets, item by item, removing any out-grown piece of clothing. Perfect! It feels good to have the closets and cupboards organized. Now I should be able to focus better.

But what to do with all the stuff I pulled out of the closets that we no longer need? I know, let’s have a garage sale this weekend. On Monday I’ll get serious about working on the assignment.

Two weeks and counting.

I can do it. Plenty of time. In fact, time enough to finish cataloguing the 1000+ books in my personal library. Yep. That has been on the back burner for a little too long. Time to get it done.

You see? I am a productive procrastinator.

The crazy thing is, somehow, I do get it all done. And done well. The cupboards, the closets, the cataloguing and, yes, the assignment too. It’s just too bad this productive procrastination-thing only works with external deadlines. Those self-inflicted deadlines? Well, they don’t count. Because as you can tell, I’ve missed my weekly blog deadline– for some months now.

And I’ve missed you.

So tell me, are you a procrastinator? What is the oddest, funniest or quirkiest thing you’ve done to avoid dealing with your deadline? Did you ever have an instance where the procrastination bit you in the butt? And, most importantly, did you miss me too? 🙂

When Sophie Gets Angry–Really, Really Angry… by Molly Bang (Part 2)

Tags

anger, book review, books, children, children's literature, communication, emotions, eucatastrophe, Molly Bang, motherhood, parenting, relationships

Last week, I began a discussion on Molly Bang’s When Sophie Gets Angry—Really, Really Angry…. In that opening conversation I evaluate:

1. The nature of Sophie’s anger as a ‘justified’ anger… more than a mere tantrum
2. Some benefits of celebrating Sophie’s character and her deeply-felt, intense emotion
3. The role nature plays in helping Sophie deal with her anger, highlighting a eucatastrophic moment (the very world she wishes to “smash to smithereens” is the one that comforts her, in the end)

Now I turn to last week’s remaining question: What about the situation back at home? Picking up where I left off in the story:

Sophie feels better now. She climbs back down / and heads for home. / The house is warm and smells good. Everyone is glad she’s home. / Everything’s back together again. / And Sophie isn’t angry anymore.

While the text discloses a resolution to the conflict, the illustrations add depth and profundity. Throughout the story, the thick outlines of colour around characters and objects change. In the beginning scenes with Sophie and her sister, when there is discord, no two objects have the same coloured outline (Sophie is, appropriately, red; the sister, green; Gorilla, yellow; the cat, purple; and the truck is light blue).

As Sophie journeys to the old birch tree, the colours also transition (from red to orange for Sophie and from red to purple to blue in the nature scenes) as her anger is soothed.

 

 

 

 

It is significant, then, that when Sophie comes home everything is outlined with the same colour (Sophie, her sister, her mom, her father, the cat and even the furniture). It is clear through this aspect of illustration, that Sophie and her family are (re-)unified by the end of the story.

There is more, however, that the illustration offers to the story that is not disclosed in the text. For instance, as Sophie returns, her sister is in process of putting together a puzzle. On the next page the family works together on the puzzle, both Sophie and her sister hold the final two pieces, the text reads: “everything is back together again.” The family unit is unified, but particularly the relationship between Sophie and her sister is restored. And Gorilla, the object of their disunity, now sits positioned equally between them.

And if one had any doubt about the role of the old birch tree in comforting Sophie and quieting her anger, on the last page she is painting her family at home, the old birch tree prominently branching out over them, and the words: “and Sophie isn’t angry anymore.”

 

 

 

In this picture book, Molly Bang demonstrates an ability to craft an emotive story with great economy. In less than 200 words, she delivers a full narrative arc that is rich in imagery, vivid in colour and detail, thematically practical as well as profound, and yet accessible to young readers/listeners. In the telling of this story, Bang has not fallen to the same demise as many illustrators-turned-writers who rely on illustration to carry the extra weight of weak text. On the contrary, Molly Bang’s words work hard—her sentences are simple, but far from simplistic—and her words work well with the illustration. As I hope to have demonstrated, there are many enriching moments for the reader/listener who experiences what happens “when Sophie gets angry—really, really angry.”

Do you have a favourite place to go to that soothes your soul– that helps calm your emotions? (Your comments don’t have to be specific to anger)

When Sophie Gets Angry– Really, Really, Angry… by Molly Bang

Tags

anger, book review, books, children, children's literature, communication, emotions, eucatastrophe, Molly Bang, motherhood, parenting, relationships

In last week’s post, I highlighted a book called The Bad Mood by Moritz Petz. It is a children’s book that explores the effect our moods can have on others and our relationships with them. Today I highlight another children’s book, one that I feel addresses the emotion of anger in a profound way: Molly Bang’s When Sophie Gets Angry, Really, Really Angry….

The story begins:

Sophie was busy playing when her sister grabbed Gorilla. / “No!” said Sophie. / “Yes!” said her mother. / “It is her turn now, Sophie.” / As her sister snatched Gorilla away Sophie fell over the truck.

In this opening scene, the reader/listener is introduced to Sophie and immediately the inciting incident takes place. Sophie’s sister grabs a toy away from Sophie. And to make matters worse for Sophie, her mother defends the sister’s actions. Now, it is unclear whether or not there is a behind-the-scenes agreement establishing that the two sisters are to take turns with the toy (apart from the generalized value of sharing), or if the toy belongs to one and not the other, but there is a clear sense of injustice from Sophie’s perspective. Sophie’s “No!” could equally protest against the “grab” as much as she may have been protesting the loss of the toy. To have her mother—a figure of nurture and authority—contradict Sophie (who seems to be in the right) adds to this sense of injustice. Confounding things even further for Sophie, the sister (who has the mother’s approval to take the toy) snatches the toy away instead of waiting for Sophie to surrender it. And if that wasn’t enough, Sophie falls over a truck in the process of the “snatching”.

At this point in the story, the narrative switches from past-tense to present-tense:

Oh, is Sophie ever angry now! / She kicks. She screams. She wants to smash the world to smithereens. / She roars a red, red roar. / Sophie is a volcano, ready to explode.

I can still recall the first time I read this scene and I remember the discomfort I felt (I have always had zero tolerance for temper tantrums). I wondered where this story might lead and if Sophie and I would come out as friends in the end. Well, we have. In fact, this has become one of my favourite moments in the story. As previously discussed, there is a sense of ‘justified’ anger… there is far more going on inside of Sophie than merely a child throwing a tantrum over a toy. Within the context of the story as a whole, this has become a moment when I feel the reader/listener can celebrate Sophie in the midst of her deeply-felt, intense emotion. It is a celebration of character, really—knowing who Sophie is and how/why she reacts in the way she does and to the things she does.

There is significant value in being able to celebrate Sophie’s character. For example: my son—who is easy-going, gentle-natured and peace-loving—has a tendency to avoid the Sophie’s in the world. Here is an opportunity for him to know and experience a character that reacts much differently to a situation than he would—and for him to know that different ways of dealing with anger are acceptable (each way has its benefits and downfalls). This is not to say that we get bogged down in discussion about anger while reading Sophie’s story. The celebration of Sophie’s character comes naturally and we both appreciate the story for much more than this. I simply highlight one valuable aspect out of many.

Sophie’s anger—like a roaring animal—seems threatening and wild, yet it can also be viewed as natural.

Sophie’s anger—like a volcano—seems explosive and dangerous, yet it too can be viewed as natural and even as necessary (after all, the due course of a volcano is to erupt).

Continuing on with the text:

And when Sophie gets angry—really, really angry (Pabam!) she runs! / She runs and runs and runs until she can’t run anymore. / Then, for a little while, she cries. / Now she sees the rocks, the trees and ferns. She hears a bird. / She comes to the old birch tree. She climbs. / She feels the breeze blow her hair. She watches the water and the waves. / The wide world comforts her.

Sophie runs when she is angry. And then she cries. So much could be discussed here, but I would like to focus on the role of nature in the story (a profound theme) and what I believe is the first “eucatastrophic” moment. Some have criticized Molly Bang for “encouraging children to run away when they are angry.” I feel this criticism is unwarranted and I suggest that the text indicates the opposite—that Sophie does not run to avoid dealing with her anger, but that she runs in order to deal with her anger. Running helps Sophie release the explosive emotion, but it is also significant to note that she runs to a very specific place—the old birch tree. Here Sophie “watches the water and the waves. The wide world comforts her.” The text has come full circle and it is the very world that Sophie wanted to “smash to smithereens” that, in the end, comforts her.

Eucatastrophe occurs for Sophie on this level, but what about the situation back at home? This I’ll save for discussion in a future post.

How about you? Do you relate to Sophie? How do you or your children express anger? What are the ways you deal with anger?

The Bad Mood

Tags

bad mood, book review, books, children, children's literature, double standard, grumpy, irony, moodiness, Moritz Petz, motherhood, parenting, relationships, The Bad Mood

My son is feeling tired and “a little grumpy,” he tells me. He goes to the couch to lie down and have some quiet time. When I ask him a question from the other room his response is mildly—but not completely—snappy.

I’m quick to comment: “Even though you are feeling grumpy, you still need to talk nicely to mommy and daddy.”

Clank. My heart drops with the weight of lead to the floor.

You see, I’m usually the grumpy one in our household. And I typically use my grumpy moods to justify snappy or impatient remarks, expecting my husband and children to understand. My son is almost always good-natured and easy-going. I see the irony. I see the double-standard. I see the benefit of heeding my own advice.

A bad mood does not justify treating others poorly.

Oh, the lessons I learn through teaching my children!

I’m grumpy often enough that I bought this children’s book, The Bad Mood by Moritz Petz; illustrated by Amelie Jackowski. I gave my husband and kids permission to pull it out as needed. It shows the effect our moods have on others and our relationships with them. Plus the illustrations are gorgeous.

How about you? What lessons have you learned through teaching your child(ren)? Do you have a favourite book that helps address bad moods? Have you ever caught yourself in a double-standard or a moment of irony with your kids? Your comments are welcome.

© Kelly Dycavinu, 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Kelly Dycavinu with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The Ways We Say ‘I Love You’

Tags

children, communication, I love you, love, motherhood, parenting, relationships, Valentine's Day, words

A friend of mine once told me that she and her family rarely say ‘I love you’ to one another. This surprised me. Her family is certainly very close. In fact, I’ve often been envious of the strength and support they provide one another, the profound topics of conversation, their commitment to conflict resolution and, most importantly, the wild and wonderful and weird things they do together for fun (i.e. selling lawn-chewing services door-to-door. You read correctly… perhaps I’ll need a follow-up post to discuss the lawn-chewing thing).

So why are the words ‘I love you’ spoken so rarely? For my friend, it’s so that the words don’t lose their meaning. Saying ‘I love you’ on a regular basis somehow diminishes the worth of the words, in her mind. Perhaps her concern is that they will be thoughtlessly or carelessly spoken if they become too familiar.

Now, I must confess. I chronically communicate ‘I love you’.

Her comments strike me because my husband and I constantly say ‘I love you’ to one another—at the end of every phone call, anytime one of us leaves the house, random moments when our thoughts are on one another, at the end of the day when the lights get turned off. Has ‘I love you’ lost meaning for us? Have those words lost worth? Are they too familiar? Do we speak them carelessly?

My husband proposed with Love Hearts… the ones that say Marry Me

After careful consideration, my answer to each of these questions is no. Actually, I feel the words become truer each time they are spoken. I’m conscious of authenticity and have yet to recall a flippantly uttered ‘I love you’. I certainly never tire of hearing the words and their effect is not lost on me. But there is one thing I notice that comes out of the chronic communication of ‘I love you’ and that’s creative conveyance.

For a while, we started this thing of saying ‘I lover you’… maybe as a way of capturing the eros aspect of the word love. I should probably be embarrassed to mention it (if my sister reads this, I know she’ll think too much information). And since we’ve had kids, the creativity has really kicked in—because if we were chronic communicators of ‘I love you’ before, we are now chronically chronic communicators of ‘I love you’.

One look at my son or daughter and I can’t help but think: You are wonderful, I love you. I overhear my four-year-old son describe to his dad the superhero he invented. You are wonderful, I love you. My sixteen-month old daughter barks whenever she sees a dog. You are wonderful, I love you. My son shares a new toy with a friend. You are wonderful, I love you. My daughter spends time in her room looking through books. You are wonderful, I love you. She also likes to pinch me if I say no to something. You are wonderful, I love you… but don’t pinch me.

Isn’t it only natural that one speaks what one thinks?

So with my children, I sometimes ask: Do you know how much I love you? Because as much as they hear the words from me and their dad, it’s also nice to hear them articulate that they know they are loved. And when my four-year-old stops in the hallway and says “Mom, (I look at him anticipating a question) I love you,” that‘s nice to hear as well. When he begins to realize concepts of scope, magnitude and distance—then he shares: I love you into space. Soon thereafter: I love you into space and back. And then: I love you up to heaven. In the car, on the way to pick up his dad, he declares: I love daddy up to heaven and back, heaven and back, heaven and back, heaven and back, heaven and back, heaven and back, heaven and back, heaven and back, heaven and back, heaven and back, heaven and back, heaven and back, and so on and so on.

For me, the most difficult time saying ‘I love you’ comes in the moment when I realize I’ve said or done something to hurt my husband or one of my kids. If I’m overly brusque in putting on my daughter’s boots the third time in the process of trying to get us out of the house. How can I expect her to understand my frustration? Taking off her boots is simply a game for her. So my less-than-gentle hands make her sad. Or the impatience in my voice when I say to my son “Hurry up, let’s go go go, into the car.” Why should he have to scurry and dance around my moodiness? Once the seat belts are buckled, perspective seems to fall back into place. I realize their tender emotions are worth more than any millions of extra minutes needed to get somewhere on time. And I apologize: You are wonderful, I love you. I’m sorry. Saying ‘I love you’ in those moments is the hardest. Because the intensity with which I feel love for my children clashes with the intensity of knowing I will never be able to constantly and completely convey that love.

No, there is no diminished worth in saying ‘I love you’ as often as I do. No lost meaning. No over-familiarity. No carelessness. I’m not saying that my friend is wrong in her thinking. People are different and experiences vary. But in my case, I won’t be seeking out a cure for my chronically chronic ‘I love you’ communication anytime soon.

How about you? What are the ways you say ‘I love you’?

© Kelly Dycavinu, 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Kelly Dycavinu with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.