Yesterday we were having lunch with a couple. Sometimes we meet as a foursome, and this time it made sense to bring their kids. A few minutes in their son started crying.
"I want to be Twig but Sarah says I can't!" he wailed.
The older sister clearly had veto power on his imagination. No amount of reassurance from his mother could weaken the verdict. Sarah said he couldn't and that was law.
Being a lofty sixty years older, I knew that this boy had the power to pretend what he wanted. But in that moment, he doubted.
I thought about how I can give away the power of my own self worth to someone less influential than a blood sister. The stranger in the store who looks askance at my old shoes, the server behind the counter who seems impatient with my indecision about which kind of smoothie to order, for instance. I hand them the keys to my dignity along with a credit card.
Even our spouse is not the rightful owner of our self respect. One time I reassured a husband whose wife hammered him with criticism that he was not what she claimed. I said I enjoyed being with him, and that his jokes make me laugh.
He looked like a little boy who had been told he was allowed to have his very own dreams.
