That’s what we all want, right? Someone to be proud of us? Every now and then the realization of the weight of the words “I’m proud of you” hits me. Lately, it’s been hitting a lot.
This summer a friend of mine came swimming in my pool with her 4 year old daughter. Ally had been taking swimming lessons and refused to get in the water without her swimmies. When we realized she could touch we convinced her to take them off, because all she had to do if she got scared was stand up. (Ha! That’ll preach! But another time.)
She started with just hopping around on her toes, all proud of herself, and quickly escalated to not only jumping into the pool from the edge but swimming under the water WITH HER EYES OPEN! Every time she got out of the water, and I mean EVERY TIME, this conversation happened:
Ally: Mommy! Are you so proud of me?!
Noe: Yes I am, Ally! Mommy is SO proud of you!!
That’s all she was looking for, her mommy, the person she looks up to the most in her world, to be proud of something she did. She would smile her biggest smile and then jump back in and do it all over again.
A few days after Dave and I started dating, he traveled to a church in MA with a friend of his to speak and pray for people. As I sat on my couch, being a complete bum, thinking about him and what he was doing at that moment I couldn’t help but smile. That man who was speaking to a congregation of people, and praying for them? That was MY MAN! How did I get to be so lucky? What did I ever do to deserve someone like that? I have no idea, but that’s besides the point. If I had been in that church, I’m pretty sure I would’ve had the biggest, doofiest grin on my face the entire time.
Instead of holding this joy and pride in, I decided to share it with him. And I purposely did it through email so that he could save it if he wanted to. You know what? It’s been over 2 months and he still tells me how much it meant to him.
A couple weeks ago, my boys (First Ave, a local band) played a reunion show. They haven’t played together in YEARS. And by YEARS I mean at least 7 or 8 of them. I call them “my boys” because I sort of became “band mom” over the years they played. I always had water in my car for them, I took care of them if/when they got drunk (that’s where “band mom” really took place), I helped out before and after the shows, I even went on the road with them.
When they said they were playing a reunion show on the same day as my friend’s bachelorette party I was totally bummed. I missed my boys! But one of their wives recorded the whole thing and they put it on YouTube (hallelujah!) which meant that I could still see it. It’s almost an hour long and let me tell you, I sat there watching it on my phone with that big ol doofy smile on my face the whole time, just like I did all those years ago. And I let them know. How could I not?
My point to all this blabbering on a Friday is this: if you’re proud of someone – TELL THEM! And tell them often!
I don’t know about you, but I’ll never get tired of someone telling me they’re proud of my decisions and the things that I do; nor will I get tired of telling people how proud I am of them.
There is power in your words guys, and there is serious weight to those four.