Love.

I've been told recently, that I "love too much sometimes."
As if that is a bad thing...
I guess to some, it implies weakness; that if one "loves too much," they will inevitably choose unwisely at times and feel pain.

I distinctly remember the first time my heart hurt.  I thought, "Wow. My heart actually hurts."  It was painful and sharp and I didn't know if I was going to ever feel happy again.
But, I did
We always do.
It didn't make my experience of loving any less significant.

I had a conversation with a friend last week, and we were discussing what it takes at times to do the work we do (with struggling kids).  I relayed that when I first began working for the Division of Youth Corrections, I was at best, about 4 years older than most of the inmates.  In some cases, I was nearly the exact same age. I attempted to fuel my insecurity by setting strict limits and boundaries; I wanted to make it clear that the kids knew who was in charge. After a few months of attempting this strategy, I was frustrated, and wondered why I wasn't relating to any of the kids.  I had an excellent boss, who taught me my most valuable lesson to date:
"Guess what? No one is going to love you, if you don't love them first."
He was right.
The second I learned to stop pretending to be the hard ass that I never was, I found joy in establishing relationships with the kids who were serving time.
I loved them.
And, not unlike myself, that is all it took to create compliance (most of the time:).

Now, my job is a little easier, because the kids are cute tiny bodied humans.
But, man how I love them.
Especially the butt-heads.
I just do.

So...what this person didn't know who made this comment referencing the amount of love I share at work, is that he unknowingly gave me my most favorite compliment.

I do unashamedly love.
It's who I am.