A little girl was asked to bring her birth certificate to school one day. Her mother wisely cautioned her about the important document and told her to be especially careful with it. But in spite of her good intentions, the child lost it. When she became aware of its loss, she began to cry.

“What’s the problem, Honey?” Her teacher asked sympathetically.

The little girl wailed, “I lost my excuse for being born!”

Isn’t it wonderful that we don’t need an excuse for being born? We need make no apologies for being who we are. Nobody on planet earth is more or less valuable than you. Sometimes we need to be reminded of that, especially when our sense of self-worth is less than it ought to be.

Several years ago, an older friend of mine developed Alzheimer’s disease. Bill had lived an active and productive professional life. But in his latter years, his wife cared for him at home. He was aware of his increasing dependency on her and of the debilitating effect of the disease on his mind. Bill gave up everything he had ever done for himself until eventually nothing was left. As his mind suffered, his sense of worthiness also took a beating. He felt as if he were nobody.

There was one group to which he belonged that decided to stay with him during his decline. He sat on the University of Denver Board of Trustees and was encouraged by them to continue attending meetings as long as he was able. One of the board members drove Bill to the meetings and brought him back home afterward. This continued even after he had lost his ability to remember names, track a conversation or participate in any meaningful way.

His wife knew that he remained a board member in name only and that their decision to include him was made solely out of compassion. But Bill seemed to enjoy himself at the meetings and she reasoned that they were probably good for him. After he returned from one such meeting of the trustees, his wife asked him, “Did you have a good meeting, Bill?”

He thought for a moment before replying. Then he answered quite honestly, “I don’t know.” After a pause, he added this heartfelt comment: “But they still think I’m a people.”

To them, he was somebody. To them, he mattered. He was still a person of value and worth. He could no longer read or write or do any of the things that had been important earlier. But he was still “a people.”

You need make no apologies for being who you are. You are a person of value – unique and beautiful. You are “a people” — unrepeatable and of infinite worth. That is something to celebrate!

From Steve Goodier’s book TOUCHING MOMENTS

Thanks to Life Support System Publishing, Inc. LifeSupport-subscribe@yahoogroups.com