Last month, Emma and I had the opportunity to participate in a church service in which the music leader shared her journey to just listen. The set was intentionally accoustic. She shared her journey in faith, music, and the need to stop talking and simply be still and listen. It was the message and music I needed in the moment.
I think about the past now almost four years since losing Mom: turbulent, frantic, fragmented are words I could use. However, I could also use: inquiry, purpose, empowering. Both personally and professionally, I feel I have been forced to be or found myself searching for the quiet. Those of you who know me well, know this is not a trait I carry often or well. I am most frequently the one to speak up, speak out, or speak before I probably should. Mom would tell me I was being “catty” if she felt I was speaking out of turn, yet, she is also who instilled in me from an early age agency, inquiry, advocacy and voice. I love looking through photos of her reading or singing with Josh or Emma. Always the loving educator and musician, her love of learning and music are gifts I see present in my own life daily.
This summer at a professional development session, I completed a personality test that the outcome matched my leadership traits with that of an animal (a golden retriever, beaver, lion, or otter). When my personality match came out to be lion I automatically caught myself on the defense. Was this really how I behave as leader? I looked only at the weaknesses (particularly because they matched well) and only later reviewed the strength column. Since then I have been paying closer attention to these cat-like tendencies to help strengthen the areas I need to refine as well as further develop and find confidence the areas that make me who I am.
This is my third year in administration. A humbling profession that reminds me daily to pause, be present and listen to those I have the privilege to serve. I am working to grow in my capacity through intentional practice, reflection, and professional community of collaboration. Recently, during a training, I asked a clarifying question only later to have a mentor comment to me that she knew I would be the one bold enough to ask these kinds of questions. I left feeling unsure as “bold” in my understanding is not synonymous with the service leadership traits I work to model. Was this another moment when my lion-headedness interrupted a moment of learning when instead I should have just been still? My consistent question is often, would it have been better to have left my question for another moment than to have asked when I did? Was I too focused on my agenda and as a result did I miss where the speaker was leading the conversation? This is an element I need to work on in all areas of my life.
As a parent, I find myself needing to remind myself to stop talking and simply listen to Emma. She is creative, kind, witty, and loves to share her story. Our stories blended together eight years ago and each day with her has been a gift. I need to be cautious that I do not overly critique her narratives and that I take time to truly hear as Dr Paul Leavenworth says “the story within her story.” She is inquisitive and curious, asking questions and constantly learning through what she hears, reads, and observes. In gymnastics she is driven to learn new skills. Her determination, resilience and growth are reminders to me of what is capable when you have faith.
Fall is always a busy time of year for our family. In the hurriedness of the season, I am working to slow down and take time for the friendships, conversations and to better invest intentional time in my marriage. Courtney is my rock and keeps me grounded when I begin to get lost in my to do list or the heaviness of hard things become too much and I feel broken. This fall marks the 21st year since we have met. Ironically, we decided to try sober October so we didn’t toast to our now legally aged relationship. However, no toast would quite suffice for the sacrifices, successes, and stories we have written together.
This school year Josh would have been a freshmen in high school. Another of the milestone moments in our book of what would have beens. Viewing photos of my friends children who are the same age no longer brings me to tears, but instead makes me smile to think of how handsome he would have been at this age. While time moves on, my heart still holds him as our handsome man.
Graceful Grief 