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What if We Believed

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Every year my little girl sits on the lap of a stranger with an overgrown beard and an overfed belly and smiles.

She smiles a pure, nonjudgmental, unsolicited, straight-from-the-soul smile. She’s done it since birth.

And this isn’t about the bragging rights of tears versus cheers when it comes to the Big Guy. It’s about the fact that before my daughter could even comprehend there was something to be gained—that this man would give her a candy cane just to cop a squat on his knee—she believed. She trusted. There was an unfiltered acceptance there. A knowing that if her mother handed her over to someone unknown, all shall be okay.

Now, this has become a real area of concern in regard to stranger danger with her, but what a blessing it must be to see the world as my daughter does. Because that’s certainly not my first instinct.

My cup isn’t running over with instantaneous trust—that’s earned. I often find myself suspecting the worst; being surprised when life offers its best. And maybe that’s the downfall to adulthood. Our kids haven’t been tainted by broken hearts and big feelings yet.

And that is why I say: let them believe as long as they will. Soon enough, the fake beard will be revealed.

What would it take for you to blindly believe in something? Or, someone? I’m going to try a sprinkle of that this holiday season because there truly is so much good in this world—and in the people of this world too.

My daughter sees it.

And through her eyes, I’m learning to do the same.

To More Love,

Stephanie

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