Category: BraveGirlJournal

Be Strong Right Now

I struggle to be at rest when I don’t have things figured out or when I am overwhelmed. I don’t have to know the answer, but I need to at least identify the next step. What is the next right thing to do?

All week, my thoughts have been disorganized and full of feelings. Sadness. Despair. Frustration. Rage. And just as I was trying to focus on God and church and a sermon and peace this morning, I opened an email about our schools partnering with the city to remember the lives lost here 3 years ago – asking that “we reflect together on the essence of #VBStrong” – and it really triggered me.

The hashtag #VBStrong seriously pisses me off. We should not have to be strong. We are capable of taking steps to prevent the situations that result in these stupid hashtags.

I went back to my journal entry from three years ago and realized that absolutely nothing in this city or this country has changed.

Why can’t we start being strong in the areas that could help prevent these things from occurring? Why can’t we be strong when we vote, supporting candidates who support mental health care and background checks and reforms? Why can’t we be strong about a commitment to finding a compromise on gun control? Why aren’t we willing to put our strength into finding a compromise that shows that our commitment to life and quality of life is more important than our commitment to allow anyone to own any kind of weapon? Why are we just perpetually stuck in an argument about what we can and can’t have and what medical conditions we will and won’t help with, and then relying on each other to be strong when the guns we won’t give up end up in hands that kill our family members and our children and our neighbors?

We should all be horrified by and convicted by The New York Times Sunday Review cover today.

Our belief that gun violence won’t impact us personally may have been the original reason we were quiet, but at this point we must all accept and admit that our inaction and our selfishness and our obstinance got us here.

I am done with all the reasons for not talking about it right now, with all the reasons this is really mostly a mental health issue, and with whining and indignant quoting of the second amendment. Those are the actions of cowards – people afraid of losing money, people afraid of losing votes, people afraid of losing power or control, people afraid that they have been complicit. News flash: you, we, are complicit. Our inaction makes us complicit.

I don’t live in Texas and I have no idea if I agree with all the man’s politics, but I cried this week when I watched Beto stand up and call a thing a thing and call liars liars. There is no longer any right or appropriate time for these sorts of things. People – children – are being gunned down every day in schools, grocery stores, churches, movie theaters. I am so proud of this man in the moment captured in this photo.

Maybe he wants votes. Maybe he’s a Dad and heartbroken. Maybe both. Likely both. But this took some guts. He has a hell of a lot more courage than most of us – and we stopped him a hell of a lot faster than we stopped an armed 18-year-old in a classroom up the street.

I am a believer in the second amendment, the purpose of which was to ensure our ability to defend our country and our homes in the event of a tyrannical overtaking of our land or government. But we cannot be so afraid of compromise on finding regulations that we allow our own countrymen with AR-15s to tyrannically overtake our schools and our churches and our grocery stores and our peace.

Today Audrey and I visited Horton’s Cemetery to talk about what Memorial Day is really about, to honor the memories of such brave men and women, and to pray for all those who mourn. Some fought in World War II, some Korea, some Vietnam, some Iraq. Some were drafted and some volunteered. Some died young and some died old. I read the words of Abraham Lincoln etched in a wall of stone there: “Honor to the Solder, and Sailor everywhere, who bravely bears his country’s cause.”

Albert G. Horton, Jr. Memorial Veterans Cemetery

Albert G. Horton, Jr. Memorial Veterans Cemetery

What did they actually fight for? It wasn’t for our right to own an AR-15. It was so we wouldn’t need to live in fear of evil people who would wield weapons such as that against us.

We need to be strong right now and actually take steps in the direction of making America safer. We can march. We can write. We can donate. We can vote differently. We can speak differently. We can open our hearts and minds to finding compromise. We can try something. We can try anything.

In the words of David Hogg, a student survivor from Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School: “I can respect you have a different opinion than me on guns but I can’t accept that we can’t do anything to save our kids.”

May 29, 2022
Girl at Work

Women’s History Month along with the launch of affinity groups at my company has me thinking about what it means to be a woman at work. The word woman is uncomfortable for me, primarily because I think it designates a grown-up and I still think of myself as a girl. In a meeting full of men and women, I look around the room and my brain processes my work family as a room of boys and girls – we are all still witty and fun, after all. But I guess if I had to choose how to characterize my affinity I’d say I’m more comfortable with the word female, because it doesn’t come with any implications about maturity.

I’m sure there are many things about working that are common to all of us regardless of our gender. So what, specifically, are the things that are unique to women? I’ve had a very privileged work life, and I’m keenly aware that I have not struggled in the ways so many have – I’ve never worked multiple jobs to survive, had a boss that was abusive, or lacked the safety net and help of family close by. But what I have experienced, what I have felt, are things like these…

I cannot possibly be everything to everyone all the time, and yet I must be. Perfectionism and the desire to succeed are deeply ingrained in me and I know that’s true of many people regardless of gender – but largely I see women connect work promotion to perfection, as opposed to consistent performance. That brings me to I must show I consistently make solid decisions based on data alone, because if I make decisions based on any sort of emotion that’s a “girl” thing to do. Which is crazy because the truth is all of our best decisions are always some combination of data, collaboration, experience and gut instinct (feelings).

The thing I am most afraid to say at work is I don’t know. I don’t know does not sound like an answer a leader gives, and I don’t think it’s an answer that women can give if they want to stay in a leadership role. I logically know it’s sometimes true for everyone, but it does not feel like this is OK for me.

Although this is the face I think I make when I don’t know the answer, I’m pretty sure I just have resting Beth face and I’m not sure which is better.

I judge myself the most harshly in the area of motherhood. My children are the most important people in my life and while it feels “right” and normal that my work family would know them so they can really know me, I sometimes fear others will see that I am winging this motherhood thing and have no idea what I am doing, and maybe they’ll think that applies to my work, too.

And that brings me to if people know I have children and see the whole me and know how important my children are to me, will they think I am not “all in” at work? Or if I take time to get the girls to the doctor and orthodontist or just to see them at a fun field day, will people think my work is not a priority? One thing I have noticed, and sometimes envied, about my male colleagues is that they largely don’t give reasons when they take off work. My female colleagues almost always do, as if we are making a bit of an apology – as if reasons have a ranking and we must have an “acceptable” reason to take the time we’ve earned.

If I felt like someone actively wanted me to fail, it was always another female. There are women who want all other women to succeed, even if they don’t particularly like a person, and there’s a kind of collaboration that happens with those women – I think because of an understanding that we can all grow and achieve more if more of us succeed. And then there are women who are so competitive or who so seek the attention of men that it feels like the progress made by the former group is diminished by the latter group, who behave in such stereotypical ways.

In order to get my point across I guess I am going to have to interrupt and repeat myself. However, if I do that will people see me as aggressive and/or bitchy? Maybe they will. Maybe I *am* sometimes aggressive and bitchy. (Actually no maybe there, I am.)

“I don’t know if that made sense,” said the smart woman who just made perfect sense.

I came across this tweet recently and it really convicted me. I am supposed to be a leader and an example, and I realized that I regularly use this line when I am uncertain if my idea will be well- received: “I don’t know if that made sense.” I guess it would be ok if I said that because I was feeling like maybe my idea was not logical. But I tend to say it when I am certain about what I am saying, but I think it may not go over well. Not good.

Are these sorts of feelings and thoughts even all about or unique to being female? I’m not sure. Perhaps men feel variations of them as well. Maybe the better question is why don’t we talk about this stuff more so our work environments can be places where we all feel safe to be ourselves, to be at our best?

There are so many behaviors we all have and assumptions we all make because of gender, I guess the main a-ha moment for me in this women‘s history month is that it’s not just men that have the assumptions and behaviors. People, not just women, must bring their whole self to work and be their whole self at work and embrace their whole self at work – even and especially when they have feelings like I don’t know. That means more men and women have to work hard to foster environments where everyone can do that. Where everyone can just be honest – that they are some sweet and some sour, some quiet and some loud, some smart and some clueless, some confidence and some insecurity, some strengths and some weaknesses. Perhaps the key to more successful businesses, family lives, relationships and equality in all of those arenas is environments where people feel free and confident to be themselves, so their best ideas can be spoken and acted on.

March 20, 2022
Fear and Wrinkles

I spent the first 20 years of my adult life battling fear of one sort or another. What if this, what if that? How can this or that possibly work out? What am I going to do?

Born in the seventies, my childhood fears were pretty standard for the time: dolls having secret lives as killers, will I have a date for prom, and the Cold War ending in nuclear war. (Whoever designed the drills where kids hid under desks when missiles were on their way to the east coast clearly did not understand science or psychology.)

As the teen years turned into the adult years fears become a little more “rational.” At least adult fears were about things with some sort of likelihood of happening. By then I knew my face wasn’t going to peel off because of Poltergeists, so fears became about things like loss or failure or physical harm.

For a while in my early adult years I was irrationally afraid to fly, which was inconvenient and annoying because I flew with some regularity. A couple of scary flights (one when even the flight attendant was praying!) combined with 9/11 had me convinced that I would be on a plane that Karen Black had to save or that careened into the Potomac River.

By the time something actually scary happened, I was exhausted from dealing with stupid things and found myself in a real struggle to maintain confidence in God and myself. Three things specifically changed the way I think about fears and the way I react when I feel fearful:

(1) The prayers of others for me.

(2) Battlefield of the Mind by Joyce Meyer

(3) Revelations about peace.

I’ve probably read two dozen books about battling fear. I’ve read every scripture about fear. And I’ve heard it all from people and gurus: “if you give fear an inch in one area it’ll take a foot in that and ten others,” “you have to fight fear with faith,” and even “you’re a Christian who knows where she’s going so you have nothing to fear in terms of death.” (Side note: never, ever say the word death to a person telling you they have fear.)

Those things are all true, but the two things that finally changed my life as it relates to fear are actually about peace. One of the last things Jesus said was that He was leaving us His peace (John 14) – He understood that fear is a part of the world we live in and He knew that peace is one of the things we’d need the most. And secondly, the words of Moses in Exodus: “The Lord shall fight for you and you shall hold on to your peace.”

He left me peace and it’s my job to not let it go.

Or, I have peace and I just need to keep hold of it.

I loathe fear. It leads to bad decisions, stolen time, stolen happiness, failed businesses, broken relationships, goals not reached, and on and on and on. Life wasted. Lives wasted.

I cannot afford to live in fear any more, regardless of the news or of viruses or of wars or of presidents or of dictators or of sickness or of disappointment. I have to do what I can do – pray, donate, use my voice, wear a mask – and relinquish the rest. I have to hold on to my peace. And maybe if I do that and others do, too, we’ll even be able to help spread some peace.

I learned this week that some people actually fear wrinkles and aging! So many people, that the fears have names: gerascophobia and rhytiphobia. My first reaction was how ridiculously vain and silly. But they’re really no more silly than the fears I had – all fears are a distraction that prevent us from really living.

I sometimes wonder where we’d be or what I could have accomplished if I had learned my lesson about focusing on peace instead of fear sooner. Maybe I’d have a lot fewer wrinkles! But those wrinkles are also my reminder that I have laughed way more than I’ve scrunched my face in anger or fear, and that I’ve smiled way more than I’ve frowned.

About to start a theme park ride, way outside my comfort zone, so I documented what I briefly thought might be the last ever photo of me. More wrinkles coming soon!

February 27, 2022
Unpopular

I find myself biting my tongue, while screaming at the top of my lungs internally, all the time. It’s just too much right now. All of America, that is – on social media, in the grocery store, in the drop-off line at elementary schools, at school board meetings, everywhere in our government, and with media coverage of any and all things. It’s all just too much.

Absolutely everything is polarized and political. People on all parts of the spectrum really need to consult a dictionary about the definitions of opinion and fact, and people on all parts of the spectrum just cannot seem to communicate anymore without some crazy drama.

Maybe this is a side effect of covid and quarantine – we’ve spent so much time isolated and in our own heads that when confronted with people again we’re either an excited puppy who can’t calm down or a selfish human who’s found an audience. What has happened to social discourse? To letting the person who only has one item go in front of you in the checkout? To kindness and to humanity and to respecting others? Why can’t we admit that someone from our political party isn’t doing a good job, or behaved badly?

And where are all the voices in the middle? The people who aren’t “black and white” absolutes on everything and who can see the validity of some points from both “sides?” The people who have feelings that are complicated because of their life experience. Maybe one of the casualties of quarantine is that the voices of the middle are silent, largely because they’re just exhausted.

I keep a note in my phone where I sometimes write down things I want to say but hold back. I also have email drafts I’ll never hit send on. Sometimes it’s helpful to just get those thoughts out, to put them somewhere, so the moment can pass more quickly. Thoughts that are unpopular, and it just isn’t worth the energy (or I know the lady also shopping for apples doesn’t care what I think about her “facts” about why the shelves are empty).

-I completely respect that you don’t want to wear a mask. But in order for us to peacefully coexist you need to not stand one foot behind me in line. You need to respect people’s personal space at all times, even if we’re not in a pandemic and whether or not they wear a mask. And if you see others wearing a mask the good-human thing to do is give them even more space, making the positive assumption that they or someone in their life is at risk in ways you do not understand.

-Thank you for your feedback on how little we can actually trust doctors, but I cannot believe that the pediatricians and oncologists and surgeons and cardiologists who went to so much effort to save my daughter’s life would then be so awful as to recommend that she get a vaccine that they secretly know could kill her. Maybe you need to check yourself, and also please post a screenshot of your high school report card so we know with certainty how much of a genius we’re actually working with here.

-Who cares about Tom Brady?! Every time I see him, I think of Ross Gellar and his glow-in-the-dark teeth.

This is my opinion. I know nothing about football.

-I believe that masks should be worn in schools right now, but I understand your concerns about how they might be impacting kids. I have a child who’s a cancer survivor, and I know I worry more about her than I probably should. That child is also in speech therapy and she and many others need to see faces. I can want kids to wear masks right now and at the same time believe that they aren’t great long-term. This does not make me a snowflake. I actually agree with some of what you are saying, which you’d know if you shut up for even three seconds.

-More than any other reason, I want the pandemic to be over so my girls can live more care-freely and so they get to experience all the things. I want them to go to dances and games and plays and concerts. I want kids I don’t even know to show up at my house and want to play with the girls and stay up all night watching movies and goofing off. If your child isn’t wearing a mask and isn’t vaccinated, I do not want my children to sit next to yours. I love you and your kids and I respect your right to make choices, but you are a risk to people we love. All of these things can be my true feelings at the same time.

-Cheers is not even close to being the greatest sitcom of all time. You could *maybe* make an argument for Frasier, but just stop it with that ridiculousness.

-Some of you are so worked up about critical race theory and you want to ban books because you have no idea why you actually think what you do and/or you cannot have hard conversations with your kids. You have nothing to fear from kids being exposed to historical facts or other ideas if you have a leg to stand on with your own beliefs or arguments. I will sit down with my girls any day of the week and talk to them about abortion, slavery, tenets of other religions, or gun control. They might one day think differently than me and that is not something to be afraid of. We should be raising children to think critically, not to be mini-mes – and they can’t do that if they are not exposed to the good the bad and the ugly of all things.

-Every legislator and voter needs to spend one week sitting and watching in a pharmacy as parents and the elderly and people from all age groups and walks of life hear the cost of their medicine and then have to make a decision about whether or not to purchase that prescription.

-Youngkin’s implementation of an email address where people can report teachers for talking about race or divisive topics reminds me of text written about the Gestapo. “Some citizens passed on information about their neighbors, family, and friends…The information passed on by informants typically accused someone of breaking the law or of being a criminal in some way. The information provided was not always based on fact and could often be rumor or suspicion…Informers had various motives including antisemitism, racism, a strong belief in Nazi ideology and governance, fear, personal gain, professional gain, and personal disagreements (e.g. informing the Gestapo that someone was a communist in response to a personal dislike or argument with that person). Most informers were aware of the consequences of their actions.” What are we afraid of parents? Is it that our children will see ugliness, or more so that they will see ugliness in us?

Every news outlet and pundit tells us that the issue, whatever it is, is clear and it’s very black and white. But that’s a lie. There is so much gray in the world, and it’s in the middle. It’s in the people with complicated and even conflicting emotions and stances. It’s in millions of people who have processed information and life experiences into much more than the simplicity of black and white. It’s unpopular, but I think the genius is in the gray and the empathy is in the gray and the humanity is in the gray and the love is in the gray. The truth is in the gray.

“Middle gray” is the center tone between absolute back and absolute white.

January 30, 2022
Keeping Myself Honest

My journal entry from January 19, 2014, was called Keeping Myself Honest. I wrote it and then shared it because I really wanted to not wimp out and I thought I might.

I have been thinking about going back to church.

Since Audrey was born, I’ve only been a couple of times – early on to show everyone we were OK, then once a year later to have her baptized.

Some people know I haven’t been attending and some people don’t. I’m ashamed of it, so I’m pretty good at hiding it. Truthfully, I think I am closer to God now than I have ever been. I pray about everything, all the time. I just don’t go to church right now.

Why did I have Audrey baptized in a church I haven’t been attending? Tradition?

Because I still believe in God. And because I want to cover her with some sort of protection shield – she’s God’s child, so with that protection she can’t be sick or overtaken by illness.

But God’s children sometimes do get sick. I, of course, know that. I’ve seen people much more faithful than I who had a much sicker child than mine was. People much more faithful that lost their child. People with no faith at all, or who have the “wrong” God, whose children got a horrible diagnosis but were healed – or who never even were sick! So who did something right and who did something wrong? Why were some people’s children healed and some not? Was it luck of the draw? Is it something the parents did or did not do? What is the secret? And why haven’t I under covered it yet?

I was a pretty good pregnant person – I didn’t eat junk all day, didn’t smoke, etc. Yet people who treated their bodies horribly were having healthy children while Audrey was in the NICU. People who didn’t want children were having healthy children. I’ll admit I wasn’t a happy pregnant person. I didn’t feel well and I was grumpy to say the least. Was that it? But then why Audrey – I was the same way with Ella and she’s fine.

Was it the oats I sowed in my younger years? Perhaps I was being punished for those. Was it the cheese I ate, the painting we did in her room, the water I drank from the tap, the chemicals in my lawn, or the fact that I laid more on my left side than my right?

Was I not really as good of a Christian as I thought? Was God disappointed in me? And if so, seriously, was THIS the punishment?

No, of course not. I *think* I have finally resolved that the answer is pretty simple. We live in an imperfect world, and sometimes really crappy things happen. It just is. Some people lose their children and some people don’t. Some people have children with medical issues and some don’t.

So why not go back to church after this epiphany? Because of intense emotions. Shame. Anger. Thankfulness. Sadness. Love. The desire for anonymity.

Shame: I have spent a lot of time wondering what I did to bring on the cancer diagnosis for my child. Other people have to wonder the same thing. How horrible must they think I have been at some point in my life?

Anger: I have been a Christian my entire life. Not that anyone deserves a cancer diagnosis, but seriously this is what I get? Aren’t I owed something a little better than that?

Thankfulness: I am so grateful, every moment of every day, that Audrey is healthy. When I walk into the building that we call church, sometimes I am so overwhelmed with gratitude that my eyes fill with tears. Just as I don’t know what I did to deserve the diagnosis, I also don’t know what I did to deserve the miracle of healing. It is humbling, to say the least.

Sadness and Love: These two are uniquely tied. There are people at church that truly care about me, that I have known my entire life. They sent me cards/texts/messages that conveyed their love and hope and faith, and I cherish each one. But what I can’t get out of my memory is the looks on their faces during those early days. They would see me and immediately their countenance would change. I could see their pity, and I still hate that. I could see their sadness and concern, and I am still overwhelmed by it.

Anonymity: Sometimes I think it would be great to just meet all new people who didn’t know and who wouldn’t make me feel all these emotions. Do people know I will never be the same again and would the people I grew up with be disappointed by that? Is that a failure, not getting back to your old self? Does everyone see us through the lens of the cancer Audrey had? Of that time in our lives. Do I? I think maybe I do and that frustrates me.

Did you notice that I didn’t say “Audrey’s cancer?” That was purposeful. I don’t want to speak anything negative or even slightly acknowledge in my speech that the cancer is Audrey’s. It most definitely is not. Call it superstitious. Or call it the southern Pentecostal belief that words have power and can work for good or bad. Call it neurotic or silly or sad. I believe it’s a bit of all of it, and frankly if I read somewhere that a daily ritual of hopping on one leg while singing Mary Had A Little Lamb had worked to keep someone else’s child cancer-free I would probably do that, too, just in case.

I am thinking about going back to church, because I need to be fed. I am thinking about going back to church because Ella and Audrey are missing out on something that is an important and fun part of childhood. I am thinking about going back to church because Ella is asking more and more questions I need help answering. I am thinking about going back to church because I think this range of emotions may never go away, or at the very least will not get better without exposure over time. I am thinking about going back to church because I can now give support and not just take support. I am thinking about going back to church simply because I miss it. I am thinking about going back to church because I’ve realized that there’s not a point at which I will be my old self again, and that that’s not a weakness.

I am sharing this simply to keep myself honest. I am going back to church and am not going to wimp out.

Thankful I did not wimp out – I am stronger and better and happier because of it. Thankful that God did not – and will never – give up on me. Thankful that Audrey is a cancer survivor. Thankful for all the people who supported us and loved on us during those early years – many of whom I still get to hug on Sundays (they must be tired of waiting for me to get to real adulthood). Thankful that my girls both love Jesus, and for all the people in their village who teach them and guide them and pray for them. Thankful for the beautiful historical building that is my church and for the beautiful group of people who are my church – whether we are gathered together in person or online, the words of Matthew always come to mind: “where two or three are gathered together in my name, I am there among them.”

January 20, 2022