Honesty Pants

"R-E-S-P-E-C-T, find out what it means to me . . ."

Amuse me.
For me, this year has been all about redefining ___________ (insert your choice word here).

My choice word?
respect.

I find it annoyingly ironic that the term "respect" is thrown around so casually - like a newborn over a flaming bonfire pit. Careless. I find it annoyingly ironic that some people demand respect, yet they never define it - never give it.

I've heard the phrase that respect should be earned. Yet, I believe the manner in which you earn it is what is to be respected . . .

I think most people miss the point of respect. I think they forget that it's not something that magically appears in one simple poof with fog lights and a hearty "hoorah" and fist pump by the genie look-alike that elegantly graces the background of your mind.

My heart deeply believes that respect is a fragile thing. It's hard to gain, it's hard to give, but it's even more difficult to grow.

Respect, in its fundamentally raw self, is something that needs to be nurtured.

Respect, I believe, is like a beautiful tree. It needs to be nurtured so the roots have permission to explore the dark tunnels of dirt, create a firm grip on the deep soil. Nurtured so that it may gain its colorful hue from the moisture stored purposefully away in the ground. Nurtured so that when spring has sprung, it may survive the dry and stiff summer heat and the unforgiving winter. Nurtured so that when the weight of the stagnant ice bears heavily down on the branches, respect will not break, because it has been loved from the beginning root.