Last night I was lying in bed thinking about trust. Or Trust, that should be, given the importance of the word. Perhaps I am currently obsessed with trust because our wonderful (and 8 months pregnant) babysitter Christina is leaving at the end of the month, and I am feverishly searching for her replacement. And what endeavor is a bigger exercise (or leap of faith) in trust than that?
I began to compile a list in my head of the number of people I trust completely, implicitly, without question, hesitation, or reservation. The requirements:
- Must be able to keep any confidence, for as long as is required (forever if necessary)
- Must be able to protect my interests and act accordingly
- Must love me despite my many flaws
- Must forgive me when I act like a jerk
As I completed my mental list I realized there are exactly six people in my life that I really, really trust. Really, really Trust, that is. Only six. Not a big number—but at least it’s manageable.