Bringing light from darkness

There are times in my life that I have met people, especially within the church, who seemed like they had always had such a perfect and golden life. A life without complications. A life without mistakes. A life without pain or loss. A life without bad decisions or regrets. Each time I met one of those people, I would have a twofold reaction. I would want to be them and I would feel inadequate compared to them.

My life has been filled with a great deal of blessings.  But it's also been filled with a great deal of pain and shame. Truthfully, for most of my life, I have wished I had not had the painful experiences that I have had in life. Some of those experiences I had no control over, and some were of my own choosing. I've realized recently that some of the latter were likely consequential choices because of the former. However they came about, they were painful, and things that affected me for much of my life.  They affected my view of myself. My view of others. My trust in people. My joy in life. My marriage. My parenting. They affected every part of who I was. And in many ways, they limited who I would become. Who I would allow myself to be.

But when I think about changing my life, and taking away all the painful, I realize that I would also be changing who I am on a fundamental level. It's not typically on the mountaintop that growth occurs, but in the valley. And so I no longer wish that I could change my history. I will always regret choices that I made that hurt other people. I will always hurt for the pain that my younger self experienced. But I accept that through that pain, and through those mistakes, I grew, and I learned, and I developed strength of self and strength of character that I wouldn't have without those experiences.

Most of the wisdom I have, albeit some days limited, doesn't come from between the covers of a book, although I do pick up some pretty good nuggets there. The really deep wisdom comes from personal experiences.  From being in the mud and the muck and being among the ashes.

I know now that the people that I have met in my life who seem to have it all together and seem to have never been affected by the ugly in life, probably aren't nearly as full of light as they seem, but are just a whole lot better at hiding their darkness. I've learned in recent months that there's great strength in being vulnerable about our darkness and our shame. Because shame grows well in dark places. But it can't thrive when it's in the light.

So if you're one of those people who other people think has had a perfect life with no regrets and no pain, and the pain of feeling like an impostor is tearing you apart, it's time to set that lie aside. Find someone you trust with your innermost being.  Everyone should have at least one of those people. Tell them the truth about who you are.  The good, the bad, the shameful. Lay it all out in the light. It takes great bravery to be vulnerable. But the benefits are so worth it.

Living life with humility and grace

I had a conversation with another legal professional this morning on my way to work about a case and a trial that I was involved in many years ago. It was a difficult case and one that broke my heart in many ways. What happened felt, at the time, like an injustice. After learning things later after the trial, I realized that it actually ended up probably being the best thing for the child. The situation was still heartbreaking but one I felt a little better about. 

This conversation occurred today because this other professional felt they needed to apologize to me because, after their years of experience since, they had come to believe that they had made a wrong decision based on their inexperience at the time. And because they wanted to thank me for my kindness to them despite the fact that I disagreed. What a gift that was to me to hear their humility and vulnerability in making that admission. I was able to give that person a small gift in return in telling them that there were things I had learned afterwards that made me think the end result was probably the best thing after all. And to tell them that I had an entire list of cases from a lifetime of work that I looked back on and felt I had made wrong decisions and if I could have a do over now, I would do things very differently. 

I think about those kids and parents from time to time. Especially the ones where I feel like I made wrong decisions based on inexperience, or, sometimes quite honestly, my own arrogance. I told the person that one of the mottos that I tried to live by, especially in my work life, was a quote from Maya Angelou that says "Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better."

This conversation resonated with me on my drive to court, and really made me think about an audio book that I was listening to this morning before heading to work. 

If you've never heard of Brene Brown, do yourself a favor and spend some time with her books or watch her TED Talks. They will make you look at the world and your view of it differently. In the book I was listening to this morning, she was talking about the concept that most people really are just doing the best that they can. Some people accept that as truth, and others do not. And that concept affected me. It make me think about how often I judge people based on the fact that they aren't doing everything that I would do if I were in their shoes, without having any clue of what it's like to stand in those shoes. 

It affected me as I stood in court this morning talking to a mother with issues of addiction and mental illness. It helped me to be kind to her and compassionate toward her instead of shaming her for her actions and her circumstances, which would have been very easy for me to do and which quite frankly I have done with others before. But it occurred to me that she really is probably doing the best that she can right now. And while that may not be enough right now for her be able to take care of her kids safely, it's still the best she can do right now today. 

And so I pray for her that she is able to receive the help that she needs to heal and strengthen herself as a person and as a parent so that she can get these precious children back. And during that process, I pray that those of us who are working with her have compassion toward her and recognition that she has been and may continue to go through things that we will never know or understand. 

And I pray that as the colleague I spoke to was brave enough to be vulnerable with what she considered to be her failings, that I am equally vulnerable to be honest with mine. And that as I offered grace to her without hesitation based on my own similar experiences, that I would offer that same grace to those whose experiences I may not understand.

"Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better." Let me never stop striving to know better. And then to do better because of it.

And sometimes flowers bloom

I started a process of emotional healing back in March of this year. It wasn't a journey I planned to take.  It wasn't even a journey I knew I needed to take until the month before. But I did.
 

Healing from deep trauma wounds isn't easy healing. It's a little like the process of healing from deep burns.  Sometimes you have to scrape away the damaged skin to expose the skin underneath that is living and healthy. So that the new healthy skin can begin to grow. That's a painful process. Excruciating really. One that takes time. And tears. And sometimes a lot of cussing. And it takes people to support you during the process.
 

I was fortunate to have a very wise guide along my way to healing. And early on in this process, when I was in so much pain from all the scraping of the dead and diseased, to get to the healthy underneath, she gave me some guidance.  She told me that I should think of something extraordinarily kind that I could do for myself. Something that would serve as a balm to my broken heart until it began to heal.
 

She gave me this advice the week before Easter.  That's a week that is always difficult for me. Easter usually falls around the time that my dad died.  And Good Friday was always a day that I helped my dad plant a vegetable garden.  I sometimes still plant a vegetable garden on that day, as a way of remembering and honoring my dad.  I briefly considered that this year. But part of the scraping and the exposing that had caused my heart to be so broken involved dealing with issues with my dad's death.  They involved finally really saying goodbye to him in the way that I should have 24 years before. And so planting a vegetable garden didn't feel quite right. 
 

But after some thought, I realized that planting flowers did. I love flowers.  Love them. But I can't grow them, or really any other green plant.  I just don't have the gift of gardening. So I picked something that would be easy to grow and even I could manage to not kill.  I chose morning glory vines. I've always liked morning glories. I like the surprise of walking out each morning and seeing which ones decided to bloom today. So I bought planters that I could place on my porch railing so they would greet me each morning as I left for work, and that would remind me of their need to be watered. And I bought soil, and I bought seeds. And in a last minute decision to start a new tradition, I asked Clayton to help me to plant the flower seeds, the way that my dad had once had me help him with his vegetables.
 

And then I waited.  I watered the soil. And I watched for buds to appear and wondered if I had taken the steps that I needed to take to guarantee the seeds would turn into plants as they should. And while I waited, God worked his magic on those seeds, out of my sight, even when I wasn't aware of it.  Much like what he was doing in my life with my continued healing.
 

In time, green buds began to appear. And then the plants begin to vine. And before too long, as the sun grew warm, and the days long, flowers began to bloom. And as the plants grew, and the flowers bloomed more, my healing continued. As the flowers bloomed, so did I.
 

As summer got really hot, and rain was scarce, the plants began to look a little less green. The blooming stopped. Regular watering kept the plants alive, but they weren't as vibrant as they were when they were first planted. But in the last two weeks, I have noticed, as the temperatures have gotten cooler, that they have begun to bloom again. Not all the surrounding plant looks as healthy as the flowers. There are leaves that are dry, or burned, or brown. But despite the condition of some of the plant, the flowers continue to bloom. And the plants continue to grow, And the vines continue to stretch to cover new areas of the trellis and the porch railings on which they grow. And each morning when I walk out onto my porch, I am greeted with new blooms. Blooms different than those of the day before. Promises from God that are new each morning. Through the summer I too continued to heal. I continued to grow. And some parts of me, like with those plants, aren't as pretty and green as others. Some are dying away, to make room for new life, as with the plants. But despite those parts that are dying, new parts are coming to life and continuing to grow.
 

I filled four planters with flower seeds back in March. While they have all grown and vined, only two of them have regularly bloomed. The third has bloomed once or twice and the fourth not at all. The plants have grown bigger. The vines have continued to grow and lengthen and strengthen. But no flowers. I think sometimes flowers may be a little like people. Some take a little longer to bloom.
 

I planted these flowers back in March as a way to be kind to myself. I didn't know the lessons that they would teach me along the way. The journey that they would chronicle. The joy that they would bring to me. Life is like that, I think.  Sometimes we plant small seeds, for ourselves, or for others, for a very limited purpose.  And God uses that act of love on our part to grow so much more than we could ever imagine.
 

He makes all things new.  And he brings beautiful things out of the dust.

Just love

This post showed up on my Facebook memories today from three years ago.  I think after almost two years of representing CPS and dealing all day every day with the things that I do, I understand and believe this even more now than I did then. 

“This really spoke to me today.  For many of us who work with children and families in crisis, the temptation is often there to think that we have the calling and the ability to help them, change them, save them, and when we fail to do that we think that we have failed.  The truth is, we can help them sometimes, and we can help them to change and to even save themselves, but sometimes it's enough just to love them and support them and pray for them without taking ownership of the end result of what happens to them.  A good reminder.”

Work together loosely or part with a blessing

I've experienced a great deal of healing and personal growth in the last few months. Part of that healing and growth has resulted in my ability to stand up and speak truth in areas where I feel strongly. Truthfully, I've been gifted not just with the ability to stand up and speak truth but with the inability to keep my mouth shut when I feel there are areas of injustice or need that require me to speak. Being so outspoken has caused me to feel a little fearful at times. But each time I have felt led to speak, God has been faithful to show up and be with me in the speaking. I know that I will continue to speak, and that I will continue to grow bolder in speaking. And that as a result of that speaking, and as a result of that boldness, there may be a strain on some long-term relationships.  I'm not who I once was. I'm not even who I was six months ago. And that won't be easy for everyone to accept.

I attended a conference weekend before last and there was a phrase I heard there that has stuck with me since. The phrase was "You will have to either work together loosely or part with a blessing" and the context for the phrase was a situation of high conflict where two or more parties with very different positions are trying to find a way to move forward. 

Which pretty much describes much of life. It definitely describes much of my life, both work and personal. Most of the time I'm very good at seeing both sides of an issue. Because of that, I often play devil's advocate which can be frustrating sometimes for those I work with. I just like to look at all the options and all the sides of things before I make a firm commitment to one way of thinking. It's an odd characteristic for a trial attorney but one that made me a very effective mediator.

That's most of the time.  But there are times that I have tunnel vision. That I absolutely cannot see any position other than my own. That particularly happens when the issue involves inequality, or fairness, or justice. I form very strong opinions on these issues.  And I think people who don't agree with me are idiots. And they make me bitey. I'm fortunate to have a very good and trusted friend who helps me to see the motivations behind the actions of people that I disagree with vehemently. That helps me to be a little less bitey. But not totally so.

And so I think moving forward I'm going to try to "work together loosely" with people in work situations but also consider that there are times that I need to  "part with a blessing" in personal situations with those with whom I can't work together loosely because our beliefs are too different and can't be reconciled in a healthy way.  Which, quite frankly, is going to be a challenge. Because my personality type is one that avoids conflict whenever possible. Which makes the fact that I am an attorney in a high conflict field very ironic. And while that personality trait makes it easy most days for me to work together loosely with people, it also makes the thought of parting with a blessing one that breaks my heart. But I think that's a more faithful way to live than to move forward in constant disagreement and strife with someone with whom you can't agree on the most important issues, and to end up parting without that blessing.

So forgive me if I go someplace that you can't follow me. But I can't stop walking. And if that means we must part with a blessing, then let it be a true blessing. For both of us. Because God is where we both are.

I am Woman

I get various Bible Study/devotional emails several times a week. Many are wonderful. Some less so. Some are, quite frankly, just offensive. And sometimes they start out one way and end up somewhere totally different. Earlier this week, I was reading one of the latter. I was totally on board until I got about 3/4 of the way through. Where it said:

“There are few things less appealing than a bossy woman with a dirty mouth. If we want our words to carry weight, we need to frame them carefully. In a world where our gender is encouraged to settle back and take second place, it is comforting to know there are women, like you, who are bravely rising up and taking charge of their futures.”

And I absolutely saw red. And I said what the hell.  Because sometimes I'm bossy and have a dirty mouth. As is clear from the previous statement. And I thought, why in the world should I have to be anything other than who I am?  Why should I have to say anything in a certain way so as not to offend?  Why can't I just speak the truth as I believe it, without worrying about whether I'm being too bossy or too crass or too whatever?

I'm not saying that we all, men and women, shouldn't be careful to speak things with love and conviction but also to be aware of our audience and the best way to say things so that they might be received in the way we intend for them to be received. But the fact that I should do so because I'm a woman just sent me over the edge. And this was another woman who was telling me this. Which makes it far worse.

So if you’re expecting me to be a well-behaved, meek and mild women who doesn’t speak unless spoken to, you might want to rethink your expectations. Because that ain’t me. And I hope it never is. 

Growing in faith

I am a relatively bright, relatively highly educated woman. The questions that I ask most often in my work life are “why” and “why not?”  I believe one of the greatest strengths I have is thinking outside of the box and coming up with creative solutions to problems and issues. But faith is something I’ve mostly just taken as it was given to me. I’ve spent much of my life in church. But only in the past few years have I really started to question what I’ve always believed. At times that questioning has made my belief in some particular aspect of faith deeper. At times that questioning has completely turned upside down a belief I had always had. I hope that as I continue to grow in faith, that I continue to question. That I never become afraid of asking why or why not. That I never forget the mystery and the majesty of all that God is and that the growth I achieve through the questions I ask will bring me closer to Him and to his call.

For those who stand in the gap

Having your children grow up and leave you is such a lesson in love, sorrow, and faith. There are so many questions that come up by the second. What if I didn’t teach him this? What if this happens? What if he doesn’t know what to do in this scenario? What if he needs me and I’m not there? It’s enough to make a mama panic. But the truth is, he was only ever given to me for a little while. And even in these years when I have thought that he belonged to me, he has always belonged to God first. He still does. And I know that as much as his dad and I love him, God loves him even more. And He has him in his hands. In the good times. And in the bad. And so I just have to trust that when I cannot be there, God always will be. And he will always send people to stand in the gap. And to all the people who have offered to stand in the gap for me, thank you. Thank you for being a part of our village. I am grateful for you.

From cradle to dorm

Three or four years ago, about this time of year, I watched a number of my friends as they were getting ready to send their children off to college. I posted around that time my observation that taking the steps to prepare your child's new dorm room is a lot like when you are pregnant and you're preparing their nursery. You are at the same time both excited and scared, not knowing quite what to expect. Being in that season myself right now, I realize just how much truth there was to my words at the time.

But I have had another realization as well in the last few days. While this is a hard time for me, because I'm going to miss Aaron so much, it is also a very happy and exciting time. But I know that this time of year isn’t a happy and exciting time for every parent. As with men and women who struggle with infertility, pregnancy and birth announcement and trips through the baby aisle can be incredibly painful. The same can be true in this season of children going off to college. I know a number of mothers who, rather than feeling the juxtaposition of sadness and happiness that goes with sending a child off to college, are instead feeling sorrow, or grief, or regret. For all of you Mamas that are feeling those feelings, because of the loss of a child, or estrangement, or something going on in your child’s life that keeps him or her from being ready to take the steps you thought they would take at the time that you thought they would take them, I see you. For all of you Mamas whose children are making the selfless decision to join the military, and while proud of them, you are equally sad that you won’t get the chance to make their new bed or to tell them goodbye in a proper manner, I see you. For all of you who are hurting at this time of year, I see you. And God sees you. And he loves you. Through it all.

What is Real?

We took a lot of photographs this past weekend when we took Aaron to Rice. Usually I’m not in many of the photos because I’m behind the camera but this weekend I asked both Clayton and Mike to take photos as well so that I was in some of them. In looking at them since, I’ve had lots of thoughts and feelings. Some deep. Some less so. And some honestly just vain like what happened to my neck? When did my hair get so much glitter in it? Where did all those lines come from?

The truth is, they happened through the process of living. They happened through the process of loving. They happened during this amazing, insane, roller coaster adventure called parenting.

They happened during those long nights spent with little sleep. Those endless days when I wondered if that baby would ever let me put him down without crying. If he would ever sleep in his own bed without being held.

They happened during those days and weeks and months as my children grew and became independent and I wondered if they would ever let me hold them again.

They happened during those years spent watching them grow and develop personalities and talents and senses of humor.

They happened in the times I spent grieving with them and comforting them over broken bones, broken hearts, and broken dreams.

They happened on numerous family trips, both big and small, filled with lots of laughter, not enough sleep, and priceless memories.

They happened in the midst of all the prayers said in doctors offices, emergency rooms, and by hospital beds.

They happened during those late nights of football games, school dances, IHOP runs, Braums trips after theatre performances, and those early morning marching competitions, UIL events, art contests, and rehearsals.

But the truth is, while I miss the elasticity of my younger skin, the sheen my hair once had, and my younger, more thin and fit body, I’ll take the me I am now without hesitation. Because, like the velveteen rabbit, I’m real. A bit of my hair has been loved off, my eyes are a little droopy, my joints a little loose, and I’m a bit on the shabby side. But I’m real. And I’m loved. And that is worth everything.

No words needed

I am a person of words. I love to read. I love to write. Sometimes I love to talk. Being a person of words, I tend to soak in other people’s words. I enjoy quotes so much I have a folder for them on my phone. Often I like to share these quotes. Because I think someone else might benefit also. Because they trigger something I feel like I need to say. But sometimes I come across a quote that unsettles me. That I don’t feel completely comfortable with. That I don’t have the words for. I always hesitate to share those. I realized today maybe those are the ones I need to share the most. So I’m sharing this. And I don’t have the words to say to add to it. I think it speaks for itself.

Coloring outside the lines

Clayton just finished an art piece, trying a different technique than what he usually uses. It has haunted me since he first showed it to me. In a good way. Finally this morning I realized what it was that was haunting me. The painting is clearly a man. But not a man as we are accustomed to seeing him. His colors are unnaturally bright. His skin tone unnaturally sharp. He doesn’t look like we expect him to look. But he’s beautiful all the same. And it struck me, as it often does, how Clayton sees things differently than many people do. He sees depth of color most people don’t. He sees levels of shadings most people can’t see. He sees things in a different way because of how his brain is wired and because of his background in art. How he sees things isn’t wrong because it’s not like most people’s. It’s just different.

And isn’t that true of all of us? Don’t all of us see things in a different way? Not wrong, just different. Different because our brains are wired differently. Different because of things that have happened in our past. Different because of our different backgrounds, our families, our realities. Not wrong. Just different.

Perhaps we should not just be more tolerant of the ways that other people see things in this world but celebrate the fact that our uniqueness gives each of us a different lens through which to see the world. And rather than judge the way another person sees things, perhaps we should ask them to show us how they see them. So that our perspectives might be broadened. So that we can see depths of color and beauty than maybe we’ve never seen before.

Love without an agenda

I had the incredible opportunity tonight to show love to someone I had never met before and will probably never meet again. To speak truth to him in a way that I hope he remembers when he thinks nobody sees him and nobody cares. God is faithful to bring people to us for us to bless. Let us be faithful to love them well. To love them the way God would have us love them. No matter their story. Without judgment. Without an agenda. To love as we have been loved.

Letting go of perfection

When I was an older teenager and in my early twenties, one of my favorite things to do was to sit and talk with my grandmother and my great aunt Nettie. I loved to hear about their lives when they were young and they loved to hear about what was going on in my life. They both marveled at the career opportunities I had available to me, as a young woman, that they did not have when they were young. I always thought how lucky I was in comparison. After having children and trying to juggle motherhood and marriage and a career, all at the same time, I began to think that they had been the lucky ones. They didn’t have the pressure to perform or to succeed or to be able to prepare a 5 course Martha Stewart quality meal while managing a high stress career and at the same time trying to raise National merit scholars.

The problem isn’t that we as women can’t do all the things and be all the things. The problem isn’t even that we can’t do all the things and be all the things all at the same time. The problem is that we expect to do that and to do all of them perfectly. All at the same time. And nobody is capable of that.

There are days that I am an extraordinary lawyer. And there are days that I am an extraordinary mother. There are even those days where I’m a pretty amazing wife. But those days aren’t every day and they are almost never the same day. And that’s okay. Because I’m doing the best I can. And on days when I feel like my best wasn’t good enough, there’s always tomorrow.

Grant yourself some grace, friends. And let’s grant that same grace to each other.