Tag Archives: love

The things kids say

Mom labelBefore I became a mom, people advised me to take the time I drive with my kids in the car as an opportunity to talk to them.  I’ve taken that idea on the road.  I love the moments of bonding with my kids, hearing about their day, singing songs and having heart-to-hearts.  The other day my son asked one of those really important questions during one of our drives.  He said, “How do you know if you are doing what God wants?”2004284_69

I was feeling very pleased with myself in a moment of motherhood eloquence as I answered his question.  I could tell my answer had an effecton him, as he was looking thoughtfully ahead into the passenger side mirror.  I knew he was deep in thought, perhaps looking into his soul.   When he spoke I knew it would be profound… “Mom,” (pause) “how do I not have a mustache right now?!”

And then the moment was gone.

It just whizzed by.

Gone.

I wish I could tell you that later the conversation picked up where it left off.  But in reality, I don’t know if he heard a word I said, as he was so engrossed in the mystery of his facial hair.

That’s just kind of how motherhood goes doesn’t it? 2004284_54

My daughter recently said, “When I grow up, the first one I want to be like is Jesus” (How perfect is that? As I hear this, I am mentally high fiving myself!), “and the second one I want to be like is you, because you are so awesome.” (can I say proud momma?), “I don’t want to be like Daddy,” (what?!), “because he is a man.  And I don’t want to be a man.” (the things kids say sometimes!)

I guess my kids are really thinking things through well…well at least they are thinking…even if they are saying things like, “It’s not my fault I am a good farter!”  (my son didn’t say this—my daughter did).  Or “My pits stink! They are wet and furry!”  (that one WAS my son).  Or my personal favorite quote, a commentary on my motherhood… “I’m hotness’s son.”  Yeah, I guess at least they are learning something.

I am a Hot momma.

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Belaying Stephen

author labelBefore my daughter, Katelynn Faith was born, we knew she had a rare chromosomal anomaly.  We knew that Katelynn’s differences had made her special and she would be given every opportunity to find her way in life.  Katelynn is strong.  During her time at the hospital, people could see how special she was.  She was surrounded in a sterile, cold environment, and yet she locked eyes with those around her.   People could feel her presence and attentiveness.

Every morning before going to the NICU, I remember sitting on my bed, looking at my wheelchair.  I would think about what I needed to accomplish.  I knew the day demanded more than I had; getting out of bed and getting ready was already so draining.  So, God and I had a conversation.  I told God how much I felt I could do of my day—usually less than 10%— and asked him to take care of the rest.  I knew he had to carry me, because I had to be awesome, I had to be beyond my best for my three children depending on me.  They looked to my attitude to see if they could get through this.  I would not let them down because I was their mom.

I have been blessed in my life with having a close relationship to God.  I know he has carried me and comforted me in some of the hardest times of my life.  My relative, Stephen, is going through the similar need to ask God to carry him when he can do no more.  Stephen has a Chiari Malformation Decompression, which is a rare brain disorder.  Last year, a surgeon tried to fix the problem, and was unable to help.  Stephen’s condition has been worsening, with Parkinson shakes, Grand Mal seizures, and periods where he doesn’t know who he is or wherekissy face he is.  He has liquid pressing against his brain, which is an additional problem that is causing a lot of complications.  Stephen has been unable to work for more than a year because of his condition.  In November, he was told his brain was starting to necrotize (die) and that he didn’t have much longer to live.  When my niece, Sheraya found out what was going on with her cousin, she stepped in with fundraising to help pay for some of the medical costs.  As Stephen’s story spread, a specialist on Stephen’s condition from New York got involved.  In January, Stephen went to New York to see Dr. Bolognese and found out his condition was NOT fatal, and is operable.

My niece, Sheraya, has spoken to me about how it’s hard to see Stephen suffering.  He’s in his early 30’s—and when he was younger, made decisions that led him down a scary path.  It’s hard to see him change his life so drastically, and to have made his peace with God, only to have him now suffering daily from this illness.Stephen UVRMC ICU

Now we have hope, we have a goal—to raise the money for Stephen to get back to New York and get the surgery he needs to save his life.  Stephen, and his wife, Lesley, are so upbeat and positive.  Throughout the whole experience, Lesley has been looking forward, and has not lost faith that Stephen can get the help he needs.  Stephen is taking life by the horns, and fighting a battle that is overwhelming.  If you are interested in learning more about Stephen’s story or helping him get to New York, you can go to his website, BelayingStephen.com or his fundraising site, gofundme.com/belayingstephen.

I’m grateful for all I have in my life, and the fact that we were able to care for Nathan through the bus accident and heart attack, and then Katelynn through her time here.  As much as we try to look on the bright side, the bitter truth is, crummy things happen in life.  But, we can choose to come out of those experiences stronger, surer of ourselves, and more determined to love and cherish the people we have.

Stranger Danger

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From the time we are little, we are taught about the danger of strangers.  We’re told scary things about how they lurk with menacing plans.

My dad owned a small trucking company.  When I say small, I mean small as in my mom was the other driver, and we kids were the set-up crew.

Dad was often the stranger who stopped and helped the car on the side of the road with the hood up.  It wasn’t uncommon for us to find a lady with a car full of kids.  Dad would tinker on her car and soon have it up and running.  He always had extra fan belts, duct tape and rope on hand, saying “you never know when someone could use it.”  The people he helped often thanked him for his kindness with tears running down their faces, but Dad didn’t do it for the glory or any reward.  He knew it was the right thing to do, and he quietly helped strangers.

I remember one late night in the middle of a snowstorm Dad saw a car stopped on the side of the freeway.  He stopped and helped get the man’s car running.  As my dad was leaving, the man gave him his card and said he wanted to help out my dad in return someday.  That man was an internationally known dentist.  It just so happened that not long after that stormy night, I was in a serious bicycle accident.  I knocked out three of my teeth.  That man was the one that came to the hospital, and made sure I got the care I needed; even though my parents were in-between insurance companies.  This stranger saved large portions of my upper jaw bone.

My mom loves people.  She says she never meets a stranger.  One time we were out hiking, my mom went ahead to make lunch for us at the car.  When I got to the end of the trail, I saw Mom sitting on the tailgate of our tan Toyota pickup truck surrounded by bikers, laughing with them and giving out sandwiches.  I imagine some women would be horrified to find a pack of bikers around her vehicle, but not my mom.  She offered them food and drew them with her wit.  She learned one of them was a fan of Shakespeare.  I’ll never forget seeing them quoting Shakespeare to each other over sandwiches of white bread, bologna, and that horrid cheese you have to unwrap the plastic from.

For me, the worst pains of my childhood didn’t come from strangers.  It came from those who were in a position of trust who violated that trust.

So, when I became a mother I had a decision to make; to teach my children about the danger of strangers or to teach them that they needed to trust their inner voice, regardless of who the person was.  I chose the latter.

This is what I tell my kids.  If someone asks you to keep a secret from your parents it isn’t okay—ever.  If someone touches you in your privates it isn’t okay—ever.  I tell them they are people and their feelings and opinions matter.  They know the voice of what is right and what is wrong speaks inside of them.  I tell them to listen to that voice, and if they do, they will recognize danger.  I tell them that while using that voice as a guide, they can have enriching experiences like meeting a biker that is a poet; a dentist that will save their jaw; a single mom whose tears of gratitude will teach lessons.  I try to show them, like my parents showed me, that helping others when it may not be convenient is always the right thing to do.

Our new Polish friends

I think they’re learning it.  The other day at Costco I started a discussion with a couple in the line behind me.   As we stood out by the carts they told me they were from Poland.  We talked of hard work and their years of living under communism.  They told me what makes a good Kielbasa sausage and the pride they feel in their children. They hugged and kissed me, told me I was beautiful and a good mother.  Soon after, my daughter told me she wants them over for dinner.  I do too… and after our discussion, I had better buy the right Kielbasa sausage.

I Killed the Little Pig…

Kids with Guinea pigI killed my kid’s guinea pig.  I didn’t mean to.

I imagine being a guinea pig can’t be too exciting- living in a little cage, walking in your own poop- and for a reason that I can’t understand- you (the guinea pig) pooped and peed in your own food bowl.  This sort of behavior doesn’t seem to bother the little pigs.  They are super cute and the kids love them.  I like them too.  I had to pick a favorite, it would be Ricky.  Ricky wasn’t prone to peeing on you like Lucy would.   Technically Ricky was girl (for better population control).  My son “owned” Ricky and my daughter “owned” Lucy.  Back to my issue— I just can’t imagine how living in your own mess in a small cage can be a good life.  

I had this dream that we portioned off an area on the front deck with chicken wire and make an enlarged enclosure for the piggies.  They could run wild, poop and pee to their heart’s content– and with weekly cleanings, such a large area wouldn’t be so bad.  Full of this vision, my daughter made little houses from boxes with doors and windows cut in.  She attached several of them with little tunnels.  We even put up a blanket for shade and as a wind breaker, and an area for the guinea pigs to hide from the Kestrel hawks in our area.  Really, we thought of everything for their comfort and happiness.  We just knew life for Ricky and Lucy was going to be awesome at the Greene house.  We brought out their little cage and opened the door to their new enclosure—one that provided almost total freedom.  We reveled in them exploring.  I thought I was rocking the mom job.Spoiled Guinea Pig

Well, evidently guinea pigs are susceptible to heat stroke— I found Ricky peacefully dead the next day.  I felt sick.  I ended up telling them that night… and tears flowed, sad bitter tears… and I remembered the pain of my cat dying when I was young (I found my cat, a dead (partially eaten) bird… and my young CSI mind deduced the cat choked on a bird bone.)  The passing of this guinea pig was the first Pet Death of my children’s life—and it was my fault!  My hubby, in just five minutes of Google-smarty-pants research discovered that guinea pigs don’t deal so well with the heat.  I didn’t even think of that when I made their awesome new home.  I thought the outdoors would be heavenly for them… Bad pun? 

That night, as midnight was approaching, I was outside with a head lamp burying our dearly departed guinea pig.  My neighbors, who were up late painting, had a horror movie moment when they looked out the window and saw me burying things in the dark of the night.

So…I killed Ricky.

pig4I couldn’t apologize to my kids enough.  They didn’t seem to blame me, but I sure felt bad.   When kids are young, a mom can kind of solve everything.  I want to protect my kids, hold them and make life as perfect as possible, while I prepare them for everything I can—and just like I tried for Ricky, I want to make a good home for them.  When I was looking out for dangers for the guinea pigs, I thought of the wind and of the small Kestrel hawks that frequent our street; and I tried to protect Ricky and Lucy from those things.  But it was what I didn’t think about—what I didn’t see as a threat—that ended up getting to Ricky.  As I held my tear-soaked kids and wondered what snot was being wiped on me, I felt guilty.  My kids are getting to the age that I can’t soothe every pain with the ease that I could when they got a stubbed toe at age three—and now, they’re old enough that I may not see what dangers are lurking for them.  The one thing I hope is that I am being a good enough mom that they will have the good sense to escape the hawks of life, and that they will ask for help when they need it.  

We all have a weakness to something.  For a guinea pig, it’s the heat (how is that possible?  They are from South America!  It’s hot there.)  For me, I like to sleep.  I love sleep— it gets in the way of getting everything I would like to accomplish done.  I also have a weakness when dealing with manipulative people.  I don’t like it.  I think I would die of exposure if I had to live in poopiness. We all have our thing. 

My daughter told me she forgave me because it was an accident and she knew I was trying to do something good.  My son told me that he was glad that Ricky didn’t suffer and he didn’t blame me either.  I guess that is the most we can do— just do our best and hope we don’t kill the tender feelings of others.  We can go through our lives and try not to cause pain purposely and when we do—we can take responsibility for it.   We can apologize, and when needed, stay up late (even when we are tired) to bury the pain we cause and ask for forgiveness.

There is something else we should learn from guinea pigs— don’t walk around in your own poop.  If you have read my book you know what I am talking about.  What does that have to do with my story?  Not much, but it’s still a pearl of wisdom. 

I should mention…we have two cats they are doing well.

Thank You Cards

Being the artsy-fartsy type that I am I love to play with paper! Back in the day was an avid scrapbook-er. Kinda hurts my heart to say back in the day because I would like to think I still am a scrapbook-er. The reality is that in writing my book something had to give. I have all the supplies – REALLY it’s a problem – and over Christmas vacation I decided I was going to make a bunch of Thank You cards. In the process of this I re-discovered my love of cutting, gluing, and design with paper.

When my kids are getting ready for bed and family prayer they brush their teeth, get in their pajamas (it’s a process). I’ll sneak into my corner (where all my supplies are and it’s still in calling distance for “brush longer” and “put those clothes in the hamper”) I’ll make a card or two as the kids obediently (fingers crossed) go about their routine.

Kids are always watching and learning. We don’t always know what lessons we are teaching. I thought I was teaching a lesson about proper two minute teeth brushing. But kids are always full of surprises.

This month has had some extra stressers. Some good and some not so good. I have been trying to manage the demands of being a mom, wife, daughter (my parents live in our basement and don’t have the best health), makeup artist, team leader, author, and speaker. It’s not always easy to balance them all. Sound familiar? This is the state of being a woman. We think that we can do it all and the problem is that usually we can.

My daughter’s school is on break and she has been with me throughout the day as I do a makeup demos. She colors as I talk on the phone with clients and even, at moments, fights with her brother just as I am being offered a speaking opportunity.. love that? Wednesday, she was in my scrapbooking corner. They have papers in my corner that they have free reign with. I was glad that she was happily creating and engaged to allow me to attend to other tasks: Making dinner with one hand and checking my day’s to-do list with the other.

My daughter brought me a stack of her handmade cards, “Mom these are for you. They are for your clients. I will make them for you so you can rest more. You say ‘Thank You’ a lot and now it will be easier!” It brought tears to my eyes. She worked so hard on them and she did it for me and the lucky women who will get one of these works of art. The kind of art that we moms love. The kind of art that cannot be duplicated because she is only eight for so long.

Her friend at dance on Thursday bought her a Gatorade. She immediately told me: “Mom I need to give her a Thank You card!” A little later a card was made. And another for Grandpa who is in the hospital recovering from knee surgery. Her brother shared his candy bar (well just a little corner of it) and he got a Thank You card too. There is nothing better than getting a Thank You card.

I was tucking her in bed and thanking her for her kindness to me. She said mom, “I think of others before I think of myself. That’s what Grandma says and she is right.”

Being a mom is the best work I do. It is more important than the applause I receive as a speaker, more than the reviews on my book, or the success of my team, more than the gratification of helping a woman see her beauty— I love what I do the impact I am able to have to help others. But more than all of that I am thankful that my three kids are watching, learning, and serving others too.

Send a thank you card. People love getting them. Especially if they are made by small loving hands.

 

Blast from the Past

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If it’s old, worn and rusty I love it.  Chipped paint, worn and rubbed with use, rusty wheels to grow vines on, tool boxes re purposed with flowers in them, old advertising boxes, a chicken coop door – these things hang on my wall, these things have a story, they have character.  Hands touched them so much that they left a story, even ordinary events like making dinner.

The kitchen handles of the 40’s were often painted red, some of the paint has been worn off from so many meals being made.  These items remind me that the ordinary tasks of taking care of my family is something people have been doing long before I lived.  When I handle these everyday items you can almost see the hands that worked them so much to be that old and worn. They would probably laugh to know that we collect their old canning jars, tablecloths, tools and other objects to decorate our homes. A home with vintage and antique items feels inviting to me, it’s like I can feel the heart, the love and the dedication that made something that can not only last– but see the years of use. I love old, worn and rusty things and I tell Mr. Greene that when he is old, worn and rusty I will love him all the more.

I was traveling alone with my kids, who at the time were three and five. The kids needed to stretch and I really needed to look at little local junk, antique and curio shops.  Paxico, Kansas – population of 221 – had two such shops. The first on the north side of the street had a lot of glass and I needed to get out of there before my kids spent all of my money for broken glass. The next one just to the south was wonderful. It had piles of vintage linens, a new tablecloth I was pretty sure would fit my table. It didn’t but I love it all the same. They had wonderful old clothes which always make me sad as they are never a size I can wear. Stacks against the wall of old prints, a box of street signs, I picked two (street signs are an obsession with me).

My kids were getting anxious… I could spend hours in here.  Heaven really. Then I saw it, on the wall hung an old school map from the 1950’s, the price written on a 3×5 card was $800, which was totally worth it.  I moved a glass doll out of my daughters hands, knowing I couldn’t buy the map, but something in my heart said to look closer.. why tease myself I couldn’t do $800? But I did look and in my awe I realized that I had added a 0.. it was only $80!! I felt faint, tingly. The anticipation and desire had met in a perfect moment!  I could have this, it cold be mine and in a vision of foggy clarity I knew where it would hang on my wall.  The whole trip of 1049.4 miles alone with 2 small kids was worth it in this moment, this would be enough.  Placing my purchases on the counter adding up to just under $100 … amazed, elated, giddy…

I handed over my credit card while chatting happily with the clerk and she with me.  Suddenly the clerk looked perplexed and said “Oh, we don’t take credit cards.” No problem, I thought and took out my debit card. Patiently she said, “we don’t take cards … at all”
Okay, this is fine… don’t panic, “where is the ATM”? I didn’t have any checks with me, who travels with checks!?  This is when my heart started to race, was I sweating?  “We don’t have an ATM in town”  What!?? No ATM.. where was I?  I was in Paxico, Kansas.  She called the local bank, sure enough they only do business with local people.  I was not local.  The closest ATM was 60-70 miles down the road.  The room was spinning— joy was being ripped from my hands.  That was it, the end … I had a schedule I was expected… I couldn’t be taking a 140 mile detour for … sniff….

She was talking and it took me a moment to realize what she was saying – And this is why Paxico Kansas is so stinkin’ cool – She told me to take the map and send a check when I got home.  I, not computing what she said in the moment, had to ask how much for shipping?  She repeated, “take the map in your car and when you get home send us a check”  and handed me the store business card.  “So, you want me to take the map home.. not pay anything now.. and you will trust me to send a check..?” I asked in surpise.

“Yes.”

“And you trust me to do that… you trust people to do that?”

“Yes.”

I started assuring her that I was trust worthy, surprisingly she seemed to believe me… that I would send a check. I picked up my map happily, amazed at how cool this was. Not only was I going to get my 1950’s map, I was getting to buy it in 1950’s style. Outside of Paxico store alarms go off on items you have already paid for, we have identity insurance for us, the kids and the family cats, and two forms of ID just to check my kids out of the Ikea play area.  Security replaces trust. And it’s what living in NOW means, but in Paxico you can still live like it was THEN. I sent the check with a handwritten note. The 1950’s hangs in my reading nook.  It is old, the metal is a little rusty and it is worn on the edges from the hands of the teacher teaching the future of Kansas, about the world outside of Paxico. I am glad that Paxico is still there and I can visit when I want to take the time to travel back in time. Next time, I will bring lots of cash and my check book just in case.

Love is …

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In college I was standing next to a male student, he was nervously shifting his weight, “can I ask you a personal question?”, he asked cautiously. His expression seemed embarrassed and I was perhaps too curious about what he needed to ask… yes, I realized he could be asking me a really personal question.. but surely I didn’t have to answer. “Sure” was my reply and he slowly leaned in and asked quietly “how to you get grass stains out of pants?”.

That was his personal question? Really.

Was laundry in his house a dirty little.. umm.. little secret? Clearly he was embarrassed that he didn’t know how to do his own laundry. This taught me two things: 1) Boys smell not because they lack interest in hygiene but because they don’t know how.
2) When I am a parent, I am going to teach my son.

My husband, the man that God has blessed me with, is clearly smarter than I am. He married me. Actually, he is smarter than me because he can do mysterious things like math. I was also impressed in meeting him that he did in fact have clean clothes being hundreds of miles from his mommy and when I rode in his car it was clean… I was smitten by these and a few other things. He was the perfect man; smart, handsome, had unquestionably good character, and he knew how to do his own laundry. He was capable. I didn’t need to train him. He came ready for life, commitment and was highly kissable (my opinion).

This moment in the picture above is my hubby helping our ten your old son Nathaniel learn how to put on his tie. It’s a simple moment. It’s a perfect moment. Our son wore his tie proudly because he did it himself and even wore his dad’s Army tie tack. He thought some might wonder if he himself was actually a veteran.

I hope to raise a son who knows how to get out his own grass stains, cook a meal, teach his son how to tie a tie, is man enough to brush his daughter’s hair, love God and respects women.

We recently had two young male guests staying in our home. One of them left porn up on the family computer.

This is against our house rules. Could it be my fault for not making such house rules clear!? Is this something I should need to clarify?

Perhaps his parents have not taught him. We are teaching our children about sex. My husband and I believe that sex is about respect, love and to make marriage a ton of fun. When I see a movie and the hero and heroine fall into bed and misplace their clothes, I feel cheated. Really, that’s love? I want my money back. That is not a romance. I am old fashioned– Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, that is a romantic story that has had countless women swooning for their own Mr. Darcy ever since. Now images sexualizing both genders are far too easy to find and we are bombarded by it in advertising, literature, internet, the list goes on… what are we teaching our children?

To me romance and love is my husband helping our son learn how to be a man, not how to use women. Teaching our daughter what it feels like to have a man respect her not just want to desire her. Romance is taking my hand as we walk, not walking off with another woman. Love is not perfect bodies together, love is not noticing my imperfect “love” placed around my middle. Love is going to work each day. Love is working on us. Love is kneeling in prayer, love is respecting me. Love is not misplaced clothes, love is folding the laundry with me. Love is letting the dirt wash away and doing dishes. Love is so much more than groans of desire and sweaty images. Love is building a life together it may not seem exciting the life Mr. Greene and I have built but we work hard, we laugh a lot, we have quiet pleasures in our lives, we like our life, we love each other. We are teaching our children that love is bigger than what you may see with your eyes, it is what you feel with your heart and what you choose. Love is bigger than our own gratification; our love has created a life, a home and is teaching our children it is worth working for.

Receiving Gifts

It might seem that the third love language is the easiest, and yes it can be for those of us who easily treat ourselves to items we wish for. Receiving Gifts is love language #3. Most likely if you are the kind of person who really enjoys being given a gift, and it doesn’t mean the gift has to be expensive, this is your love language. Someone who truly feels love when given gifts will cherish it no matter the cost. It is the thought that counts to someone who feels love from being given gifts.

So if you suspect you feel most love when you receive gifts, giving yourself gifts should be a breeze. Well, it can actually be as hard for some as any other love language. Again, we often put ourselves last and rarely sacrifice at the needs of our family and friends, especially when it comes to finances. Well, good thing there are so many ways to be thrifty these days (garage sales, thrift stores, coupon books galore, clearance racks.) If receiving gifts is your primary love language take a good look at your family budget and know that you should just plan for any small amount to be able to get a gift for yourself, even if it’s something from the dollar store. Some people call it an allowance, fun money or mad money, but the point is it should be just for your indulgence.

Giving gifts to yourself lets your internal self know that you are important enough  and do deserve love from yourself. Taking the time to really think about what gift you want for yourself can be a part of the process as well. Make and keep a running list of all the things you might see that are of interest to you. If you know they are out there, when the time comes for giving yourself love you will know exactly what to get yourself. And, alternatively, you could just keep it sporadic and include an indulgent trip to the mall, by yourself and you will be giving more than just a physical gift to yourself, you will be giving the gift of self. We all need some time to ourselves and this is another application of receiving gifts.

Words of Affirmation

I’ve decided to post a weekly blog about a book I’ve recently finished since it has a list attached to it that is easily broken up – the information contained in it is also useful. It is called “The Five Love Languages” by Gary Chapman. As the title states, there are five primary languages and each of us feels love more by one of them. When we communicate to others in the way that he/she hears or feels loved most we can be more effective at showing how much we love him/her. I highly recommend reading the book as it can be applied to not only our marital or committed relationships but is also useful for every relationship we care about, like the ones with our friends and the one would should care most about but is usually the most neglected – ourselves. We need to nurture and care for ourselves in order to take care of those we love. The posts here will not go into detail of what each love language contains in its entirety, but it will be more about how it relates to beauty and how we can give more love to ourselves.

So, the first on the list is

Words of Affirmation

If you are reading this and have already had a makeover with Leta you will be quite familiar with what it means. Sending yourself positive thoughts, saying positive things to yourself and even writing the positive words down will eventually help you feel more love for yourself. Words of affirmation can be as simple as pointing our that you really like the shoes you are wearing today. Yeah, maybe they are your favorites an you wear them a lot, but sometimes when we haven’t been nice to ourselves in a long time starting with something so simple can be a break through to more powerful affirmations. Dr. Chapman would call these verbal compliments.

Another way to express words of affirmation is through encouraging words. Especially useful when building up confidence to do something new or something that may be challenging or frightening to us. For example, say you’ve always had the desire to learn to play the piano but were never given the opportunity to take lessons growing up. Encouraging yourself to venture out and try this new possible hidden talent can build your confidence to actually do it and hopefully build  your love for yourself in the process as well. “Most of us have more potential than we will ever develop. What holds us back is often courage.”

Kind words are spoken by us to those we love, but not often enough to ourselves. By speaking kindly to ourselves we are demonstrating that we care about ourselves. In turn, we can give more loving care to others.

Finally, humble words are a demonstration of affirming words. “Love make requests, not demands,” Dr. Chapman states in the first line of this section in the book. As women we are often so demanding on ourselves it can wear us down and start to feed the negativity residing within. However, by letting go of some of the demands we put on ourselves and just request that we do the best we can, again we are giving ourselves love.