The most transformative thing you could tell someone is that they are loved.
For when you hear that you are loved, the sun inside your chest rises on your heart.
Your soul’s horizon glistens like the Niagara River when it’s pretending to be glass.
Everything it reflects is beautiful. Even the homely parts.
Judgement retreats like a California raisin, dehydrated by your light.
(Which explains why you feel warm around the people you love.)
There’s no room for thieves, longing to pilfer your peace, to lay their head.
That spot’s reserved for a special guest.
So tell them.
Tell them that they are loved.
Because they aren’t told nearly enough.
Even if they were, it could never be enough.
Not to mention it’s an easy thing to forget.
And sometimes even harder to believe.
Especially when it shows up in places you’d least expect.
Now go transform someone.
They’ll never be the same.
Neither will you.
Which is what Christmas is about.
