In elementary school there was this boy in my class named “Brandon.” His family came over to my house twice and both times ended traumatically for me. The first time Brandon and his brother came to play with Nate and I, we raced up and down the hallway on the second floor. Laughing together as the four of us approached the top of the staircase, Brandon fought his way to the front of the pack an instant before swinging around the corner. He stumbled and tumbled halfway down the stairs, but otherwise appeared unharmed. I froze in horror, not because of the scene unraveling before me but upon hearing the words, “Mommy! Mommy! Kayla pushed me!” escape from his lying mouth.
I shook my head in opposition, arguing against his unwarranted accusation, but it was useless. His mother concluded it must have been an accident because she couldn’t bear the thought of her baby being a liar. I was unable to defend myself as a child and there was nothing I could do to convince the woman of the truth. No one offered to stand up for me. No one supported me. The message I received loud and clear from their silence was that I was alone in this world.
The second time Brandon came over, we played outside in the large driveway in front of my childhood home. It must have been summer, and I rested in the grass as far away from the kid as possible, keeping my distance after the previous situation. When he set his bike down near the garage door, I guess he forgot to prop the kickstand, so it fell over. He walked away and after a solid minute I made my way toward the house for a drink of water.
As his mom emerged through the doorway, he launched into a melodramatic tale as he whined about how I pushed his bike over. I should have known this would happen, but I could hardly believe my ears. I was reliving my worst nightmare all over again. It didn’t even matter if it fell over on accident or not. Who cares how it ended up on the ground? I couldn’t understand why he blamed me for it. It made zero sense, and I was silently furious. I insisted upon my innocence, but his mother believed her angel of a child once more.
Brandon never set foot in our house again, but after that I had several terrible dreams where I went to jail for a crime I didn’t commit and no one trusted in my innocence or bailed me out. No one stood up for me or supported me. I stopped depending on others to have my back and aimed to become independent. I would live alone forever.
Then last year when I decided to move to the Dominican Republic after waiting for the right time for roughly a decade, at first I heard no reassuring words from those around me. Well-intended people cautioned me. “It isn’t safe.” “You won’t last very long because you don’t have any money.” and “You can’t move there… You need health insurance, a retirement fund, and access to first-world healthcare.” They kept repeating what if, what if, what if… and their negative opinions produced uncertainty and confusion.
I questioned whether I was making the right choice until I went to the Dominican a few months ago. I met an amazing group of people who strengthened my vision. Their encouraging words quenched a thirst I didn’t know I had. Their support was refreshing to my soul. This is what I was missing in my life, although I wasn’t even aware of it. And then my teacher friends were equally supportive, voicing their love and encouragement. It was precisely what I needed.
I have experienced the power of encouragement. We can build each other’s confidence as we face the harsh realities of life together. Positive words of love can strengthen areas in the brain and build resiliency. Research has also revealed a connection between social relationships and our health and wellness.
I used to think I would be happy living alone on an island with my dog and maybe I would be content, but I wouldn’t have a fulfilling or rewarding existence. Human beings need interaction and connection which can only be achieved through communication or actual contact with other individuals in person, not through a screen. Our hearts and souls crave intimacy, but sometimes we settle for a phony imitation of the actual thing.
Sometimes we let our differences, bitterness or laziness get in the way. We should stop allowing fear and worry to separate us. Instead of burdening ourselves with the endless possibilities of what MIGHT happen, spreading anxiety, be courageous. Be positive and have confidence. Spend more time building relationships and encouraging others and less time worrying about ourselves. I feel like we need to avoid being so critical and judgmental of everyone, including ourselves. Pause and imagine what it would be like to be in the other person’s shoes. Practice empathy and use our words to build one another up because encouragement has power.
“Encourage one another daily, as long as it is called, today”
Hebrews 3:13
“Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering… Encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.”
Hebrews 10:23-25
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