No Mud, No Lotus

I’ve spent a lot of time recently reflecting on being a little girl. How other’s comments, opinions, praise, and criticism became an integral part of that little girl’s self worth. There’s a lot of strong emotions wrapped up in the memories. There’s a hell of a lot of pain but there’s goodness and love too. At the heart of that love and goodness is my Aunt Carol. 
So often as I was growing up I was told I was too sensitive, too “mouthy”, too fat, too blunt. Leaving me feeling as if I was too much of what I was and not enough of what I wasn’t.
The exception was when Aunt Carol was around. Aunt Carol was always  in my corner during every  round of family dysfunction. She was my defender. She always made me feel seen and heard. My confidant. My cheerleader. My safe place. She always encouraged me and seemed to genuinely enjoy my company. While they were busy  scrutinizing and criticizing. She was building me up. Not sometimes, ALWAYS! She would say things like, “You’re so spunky!” …”I love how feisty and direct you are.”…”I know things are really hard, honey and I hate that you have to go through this but you’re so strong and resilient.” …”You are so smart and so funny!”…”I think you are so talented and can do whatever you set your mind to do!”…”You’re so different and that’s so neat!” The same things others had seen as weaknesses and shortcomings, she saw as gifts. Seriously to this day, if you’re having a rough day, Aunt Carol will lift your ass up!
I realize and appreciate that although my childhood wasn’t idyllic, it would’ve been so much harder if it hadn’t been for her.
As I write this I am 53 years old and I remember that little girl. My Aunt Carol has helped her heal not because she made sweeping, grand gestures but because she chose to see the good in me.  And now I can see glimpses of her in every kind word I speak. She reminds me of the power of building others up. 
We are kindred spirits. We are deeply connected, heart to heart. 

Today her memory is slipping, she forgets words, people’s names, and what she’s talking about sometimes  but she never forgets how to love and be kind. 

Last week we went on a picnic. We laughed. We cried. We walked and talked while holding hands and sharing  secrets. She picked flowers for me and we sat in the grass as we talked about her middle name, Lotus.   My granddaddy gave it to her.. Imagine that, in 1945 a father naming his daughter Lotus! 
My Aunt Carol endured so much criticism growing up and yet she gives love and kindness so freely. It’s just who she is. Just like the lotus flower, it’s the depth of her mud that has led to her immense  beauty.

When we were together, she looked in my eyes and said, “No one knows me better than you.” And I believe her because I have always known who she is.
It’s so powerful and precious to have someone trust you with their heart when you spent so many years trusting them with yours.

 Aunt Carol is proof that love and kindness can salvage the heart of a little girl. Hell, maybe even the world.