You Don't Have to Understand to Be Kind

The older I get, the more I realize that one of the greatest gifts we can give another person is something that costs us absolutely nothing. We can make them feel safe enough to simply be themselves. It sounds so simple, yet it seems to be something that's becoming increasingly rare. We live in a world where everyone has an opinion, where social media encourages instant criticism, and where people often feel the need to correct, debate, or explain why someone else's interests, hobbies, or passions don't make sense. Somewhere along the way, we've forgotten that not everything has to make sense to us in order to deserve our respect.

I've often found myself smiling when someone talks excitedly about something I know absolutely nothing about. It might be a hobby I've never tried, a television show I've never watched, a collection that seems unusual to me, or a story they tell with so much enthusiasm that you can't help but notice the joy on their face. I may not understand every detail, but I understand excitement. I understand what it feels like to have something that makes your eyes light up when you talk about it. And honestly, I think that's something worth protecting.

As I've gotten older, I've become much less interested in deciding whether someone else's interests are worthy of my approval. Instead, I find myself appreciating the fact that every person is wonderfully different. Imagine how boring life would be if we all enjoyed the same books, listened to the same music, vacationed in the same places, or shared the exact same passions. Our differences are what make conversations interesting. They're what allow us to learn from one another and occasionally discover something we never knew we'd enjoy ourselves.

I think about my own life and realize there are plenty of things that probably don't make sense to everyone else. Not everyone understands why I love Disney as much as I do. Some people may not understand why I enjoy sitting on the deck with a cup of coffee simply watching the birds or reading a book for an afternoon. Others might wonder why I spend so much time writing or why building Seizing Hope has become such an important part of my life. That's okay. They don't have to fully understand it in order for it to matter to me. Those things have brought joy, purpose, healing, and hope into my life, and that's reason enough.

I also know what it feels like to hold back part of yourself because you're not sure how it will be received. Most of us have experienced that at one time or another. We hesitate before sharing an idea because we're afraid someone will think it's silly. We downplay our excitement because we don't want to seem childish. We avoid talking about something we genuinely love because we've already heard someone dismiss it before. Little by little, we learn to edit ourselves depending on who's in the room, and I think that's a shame. The world loses something beautiful every time someone decides it's safer to hide their enthusiasm than risk someone else's judgment.

One of the things I appreciate most about the people closest to me is that they've always allowed me to be fully myself. They don't tease me for getting excited about a new book or another trip to Disney. They don't roll their eyes when I have an idea for a new writing project or another training guide I'm eager to create. They simply let me enjoy the things that bring me happiness. What I've realized is that feeling accepted isn't about having someone who shares every one of your interests. It's about having someone who respects them because they know those things matter to you.

I've learned that one of the simplest ways we can love people is by being genuinely interested in what brings them joy. We don't have to become experts in their hobbies. We don't have to suddenly share every one of their passions. Sometimes all that's required is listening with curiosity instead of judgment. Ask a question. Smile when they smile. Celebrate their excitement, even if you don't fully understand it. You may forget the details of the conversation, but they'll remember how you made them feel.

This has become especially meaningful to me over the last few years. Watching Tim rediscover his creativity through writing and music has been one of the greatest joys of my life. Before his health changed, neither of us could have imagined where that journey would lead. Today, I love listening as he talks about a new story idea, a piece of music, or a project he's excited about. I may not always understand every technical detail, but I understand the happiness it brings him. That's enough. Seeing someone you love come alive with purpose is a gift, and I can't imagine responding with anything other than encouragement.

I sometimes wonder how different our families, workplaces, friendships, and communities would be if we all practiced this a little more often. What if we stopped trying to decide whether someone else's excitement was justified and simply enjoyed watching them be excited? What if we spent less time correcting harmless mistakes and more time appreciating the person standing in front of us? What if we became known as the people who made others feel comfortable enough to be themselves instead of the people who always had to be right?

Kindness isn't always found in grand gestures. More often than not, it's found in ordinary moments. It's letting someone finish their story without interrupting. It's resisting the urge to point out a small mistake that doesn't really matter. It's choosing encouragement over criticism. It's smiling when someone shares something they're passionate about instead of wondering whether you would have chosen the same thing. Those little moments may seem insignificant, but I think they're the very things that make people feel seen, accepted, and valued.

As I've grown older, I've realized that I'd much rather be remembered as someone who made people feel comfortable being themselves than someone who always had the right answer. Life is hard enough without making people feel self-conscious about the things that bring them joy. We all carry enough burdens already. If someone finds happiness in a favorite television show, collecting old records, birdwatching, gardening, building model trains, baking bread, writing stories, or taking pictures of sunsets, who am I to decide that their joy isn't worthwhile?

The truth is, every one of us is looking for the same thing. We want to feel accepted. We want to know we can laugh a little too loudly, become excited over something that seems ordinary, or share a dream without wondering if someone is quietly judging us. We all want a place where we don't have to edit ourselves to earn belonging.

So perhaps one of the kindest things we can do is simply let people be. Let them enjoy what they enjoy. Let them become excited about the things that make their hearts come alive. Let them tell one more story, laugh one more time, and share one more dream without worrying whether they'll be understood.

Because in the end, I don't think people remember us for how often we corrected them. I think they remember how safe they felt in our presence. And to me, that's one of the most beautiful gifts we could ever give another human being.