Insecurityis part of life. We worry about our looks and intelligence, our mannerisms andour skills. More important, we worry about what others think. Often, I findmyself more insecure than I would like to be. Recently, however, children lessthan half my age gave me a lesson in self-confidence.

I showed up at thelocal fair early on a suffocating August morning. As I strolled through thegates, I anticipated a long, grueling day. I had promised my volunteerorganization I would help for 12 hours. Our mission was to raise money for drugprevention by painting children's faces.

My artistic skills are almostnon-existent, and I figured I would stay behind the scenes and help supply thematerials. When I arrived at the booth, however, I quickly learned that thiswould not be the case. Because the line was stretching down the midway, I wasthrown into a chair, given a set of paints, and instructed to start paintingwhatever these children's hearts desired.

I was sure once the otherswitnessed my lack of skill, they would allow me to vacate the artist's chair.Again, I was mistaken. Before I could say anything, a charming little girl wassitting beside me asking me to paint a heart. Relieved, I sighed and began totalk with her. I knew I could paint a pink heart on her cheek. After a few quickstrokes and a lot of glitter, I was finished. I held up a small mirror so shecould see my masterpiece. Smiling widely, she threw her arms around me and toldme it was beautiful.

Touched, I decided I would give it another shot. Mynext youngster, however, was not as easily satisfied. A rugged boy of seven madehimself comfortable in the small chair. With his eyes wide open, he promptlyexplained it was necessary that I paint him a horse for good luck since his horsewas participating in the fair. Scared, I told him I wasn't sure I could fulfillhis request.

Without hesitating, he smiled, "Sure ya can. It's just ahorse. Even I can draw them." His confidence in me made me even lessconfident. Despite my fears, I began to paint a horse on his small cheek.Disappointed with the final result, I quickly told him that I was more thanwilling to paint something else on his other cheek. He grabbed the mirror,inspected my work, and reassured me that it looked just like his horse. He waspleased, and I was surprised.

My day continued just like this, and I neverleft my chair for more than a few minutes. Every child who sat in front of meseemed to give me a little more confidence. Never have I painted so many heartsand rainbows, balloons and footballs.

By the time we needed to clean upand call it a day, I didn't want to go home. I probably would have stayed foranother 12 hours painting and getting to know some of the kindest people in ourworld.

Leaving the fair, I realized that although I had planned to docommunity service and help out, a community of kindergarteners and preschoolershad helped me out. They had taught me a lesson in both confidence and kindness.In a world full of criticism,I had spent a day with children who both appreciatedand praised my simple gesture.