Tact

The older I get (I’m not very old, which is why I have no shame about declaring I’m getting old), the more I realize how little I know. About life, people, social skills, and tact in specific.

Tact isn’t my gift, or even a strongpoint. If I’m going to say something, I’ll say it. I don’t usually spend a lot of time thinking about what and how to say things. This generally gets me into trouble, and encourages me to fish up a really good apology, and fast.

The dictionary definition of tact is adroitness and sensitivity in dealing with others or with difficult issues. Forget the difficult issues part, and this becomes life. Dealing with others. With sensitivity. Not harming or endangering the feelings of a single human being, ever.

I’m working on my tact. You should work on yours. (Whoops. Sorry.)

Handle

 We can all target perfection. A way that we wish things could be, or that they used to be.

I talked to a girl who wished time could stop, rewind, erase, then fast forward again. Life had taken some twists and turns, and she wanted to start over with a road map.

As I thought about her in her unique situation, I realized something. God gives us each what we can handle, at the rate we can handle it. It wasn’t perfect back then, because I didn’t know what I’ve learned. And as I learn, I become more fully equipped for His service.

I wonder how often I complain about challenge?

Heard

Everyone wants to be heard. This desire lies at the heart of many hurts and insecurities. In a large group, the want becomes greater. I sat, several weeks ago, and listened to a hurting heart pour forth pain. As I tried to understand, I scrambled for something to say. All I could think of was I'm so sorry.

She finished, and looked to me expectantly, and that's all I said. Her eyes filled with tears, and gratitude. I then realized that's all she'd wanted me to say. She wanted someone to listen to her pain, know and understand her. She wanted to be heard.

I tried to listen. Did I hear?

Individual

As I stood in front of dozens of high schoolers this morning, I was reminded of my insignificance. I am only one in a million. At the same time, I was reminded of my individuality. One though I may be, I am one.

In millions, I am the only me. My individuality is mine. And it is good. However, it is not only mine, it is my Maker's. I am to give my individuality to the King who created me, and as I become more like Him, I become more unique.

You are an Individual. Appreciate it.