The courage to press on
The Fall 2016 - Spring 2017 school year was the hardest thing I’ve ever endured.
Yes, even harder than Dan’s death. When someone dies - there is almost this womb of protection that envelopes you. Your senses become a bit numb from the shock of losing your beloved. It’s the after - when that web begins to lose its thickness and the reality of this world permeates your bubble…that’s when the impact is felt. That is when the sound returns. You can feel again. See. Smell. …yet, everything is harsher. Like when the light shines in the darkness.
That year, we (the teaching suite) didn’t just lose Dan. Two other long-time advising staff left (the same month as Dan dying) for new opportunities. Less than 3 months later, we lost the undergrad coordinator, who shared at least half of the advising load.
We lost FOUR staff - all sharing bits of the advising/student load - within 3 months. In addition to the weight of my personal grief came the weight of professional responsibility.
I trudged through. Show up every day because I had to.
Who else was there to shepherd the children or carry the load? No one.
and those who were here were already weighted down. So, we just settled in under the weight and slogged along. Where there were 8+, now there were 4.
During that time, I started also advising a club. I was so excited to do what I’d always wanted to do - lead students to do great work, to become a great team, to find their passion - just like my mentors had inspired me. Maybe my zeal kept me from seeing reality, maybe it pushed too fast and too far out of their comfort zone - all I know is that at the end of the year, I received some scathing, attacking comments.
It undid me. I officially was at my emptiest. My skin wasn’t thick or calloused - and those cut…deep. I was trying SO HARD. Pouring every bit of effort and energy I had - which wasn’t much - into them. How could they not see that? How could they not give me just some grace for showing up - for trying? Didn’t they get it?
…no, they didn’t.
Most of us can only see after our eyes have been opened - and that only comes with experience. Very few of us are gifted wisdom without the experience of enduring the fire to discover it.
That summer little rays of light started to appear both professionally and personally.
People with a zest for life - for opportunity - a belief in possibilities - appeared.
It was not only refreshing - but a beacon of hope. As someone who lives for what can be and gets mired down by “what is” - it was like a drink of water to one in a desert.
I only know a fraction of what your year has been like…but it might resemble a bit of my lowest.
It is dark for you…but we are not without hope or light. You have already done so much good — and there are still harvests to come!
You have planted seeds of opportunities. Your leadership style encourages growth. You allow space for people to bring their talents and gifts to the table so that we can be more than individuals - and certainly more than cogs in a system. You encourage us to bring ourselves to the table.
Thank you for the courage to show up for us every day. It’s not easy — and you are doing it.
You making a difference while building a legacy.
With respect & admiration,
Jessica
