okay

A week ago,
K told me to
grant myself grace
when I make missteps
and mistakes:

“You learn fast, Deborah,
but mistakes are inevitable.
They aren’t a sign you’ve
failed to learn. Just …
that you’re still
learning.

“You will
make them.
And it’s okay.”

This evening,
I am grateful for K’s words.

Today,
I made many mistakes.

Thanks to K,
I have a chance to see them
not as my catastrophic failure
foreshadowed early,
but rather,
simply, as
faltering
early
steps.

None were a sign
that I’ve utterly
failed to learn.
Just …
signs
that I’m
still
learning.

(And it’s OK.)

to show up

Today was my sons’ second day of (online) school this Fall.

Anxieties have run high among the adults in my home the last week or so: “What?! We just got the hang of COVID summer. How are we supposed to adapt to school now, when Summer just started … it did just start, didn’t it? Wait, is it still 2020?”

The first two days went pretty well, actually. I was able to collapse the chaos of virtual school-plus-work into a spreadsheet, and then … reality actually conformed itself, more or less, to that spreadsheet!

(That seldom happens, so I take time to savor it when it does.)

The best part of day two involved a summer assignment my older son finished a little late: “As a family, talk about an event in the news and how it relates to your faith.” Continue reading “to show up”

to experience grace

Four weeks ago, I wrote about unlikely inspiration: being laughed at and photographed for wearing a face mask. I wrote about how reflecting on that encounter helped deepen my commitment to practicing empathy even—perhaps especially—when it’s hard:

If I rage at [Unmasked Woman], the maskless woman who set this post stirring, I do not show care. I do not show empathy. I do not reflect, in act, my deep belief that “redeemable” is a category into which every single human being may fall.

A few days later, I’d learn of the police murder of George Floyd. I’d see my husband, a Black man who has gently walked with me as I’ve grappled with the enduring consequences of my own many encounters with trauma, split open and bleed out decades of racism-born trauma. Unskilled at being with him in his own trauma, I’d leap right into the roiling waters of trauma with him, leaving us both exhausted, wounded, and wary. Continue reading “to experience grace”