I love having meaningful conversations with strangers.
Last month, after recording a podcast, a member of the production team told me about her young nephew. He was born with a short limb syndrome, and his mom has taught him this is “his special difference.” He now loves to go around asking other people, “So, what’s your difference?”
I love that. So much.
I once taught a teenager who had this amazing ability to make room for everyone. Younger students at the school -- especially -- felt safe in her orbit.
She'd also had a physical tic since childhood: a repetitive, involuntary movement that was impossible to hide. In middle school, this sent her into an emotional tailspin. No one wants to feel different in middle school.
She told me that her self-perception began to change when her dad took her on a ride in his truck. On that ride, he told her that he LOVED her tic.
Why? Because he loved *every* part of her, and this was a part of her, too.
"You've got to find a way to love your quirks," he told her. "We all have them -- yours just happens to stand out a little extra. So be extra!"
Extra-ordinary.
My father-in-law used to use the expression, "Everybody has to be some way.”
“And,” I add when I share that mantra with my kids, “wouldn't it be boring if we were all the same way?”
As usual, Fred Rogers puts it even better:
"What matters most for children is how they feel about their uniqueness once they do begin to realize that they are, in some ways, different from everyone else.
How they feel about this early in their lives often determines whether they grow into adults who rejoice in the diversity of the world’s people or into adults who fear and resent that kind of diversity."
So what’s YOUR difference? What’s your kid’s awesome difference? And how can we use our differences to *make* a difference?
~Deborah Farmer Kris