uncomfortable learnings

An update from this post earlier this week:

I've always believed that every difficult situation provides an opportunity to shed light and learn.  This situation was no different.

I am, first and foremost, so incredibly thankful to everyone who showed empathy, compassion, and support - those who commented, texted, or talked.  And, boy, have I talked a ton about this week's events. Ahem!

There is one person who knows me personally and professionally who has been by my side through many tough situations.  She's always been a voice of encouragement in such an honest way.  She offered this,"Oh G, those feelings of hurt come so fully to you because of your immense compassion and care for others" followed by so much more affirmation.

The gist of the back story is that I work at a small, private, liberal art college that is church-related.  We are located in a rural and relatively conservative area of the nation.  The sense of community and connectedness on this campus is rich and deep for many.  It is this community that defines us.  

It can also be what divides us.  For there are community members - faculty, staff, students - who don't fit in seamlessly.  Often they are poor or Black or gay or Catholic or without faith or philosophically liberal.  It seems to me that it is likely that these folks will never fit in which denies them the ability to finish their education, or serve the community, or feel safe and comfortable.  

I've approached my role on campus as one who should work intentionally to reach out to those marginalized or oppressed by the community.  Part of that means hiring staff who believe this is important and have experiences to assist.  One of those new hires was a young Black woman from an urban area about 8 hours from our campus.  

We knew our campus would be a tough place for her to be.  We built support systems, we reached out to her, we worked hard to help her integrate, but it wasn't enough.  And in the middle of the night, she left - no notice, no plan.  She left behind a letter that accused me of failing her as a Black woman on our campus.  And, perhaps, I had.

I'm not going to defend the work I've done or my efforts to support and assist her.  I've spent the better part of the week doing just that and realizing that the community around me, including the Black members of the community, already knew my work.  They already knew my efforts.  They already knew that she failed to acknowledge the networks we built and refused to reach back.  

She was stoic, strong, and stubborn.  She wanted to be the hero, but wasn't prepared for the shock.  It was hard for her, I know.  And I wish I could have taken that away from her.  But I can't.  It's not mine to remove.

Saint Angela Merici who wrote "Build community wherever you go."

Image taken from www.ursulinesisters.org

So, what have I learned through this?

I've learned to trust those surrounding me and to remember that I am not in this alone.

I've learned that students rally together when their supervisor is absent (mentally or physically) and succeed despite the tough things they are facing.

I've learned that there are set backs when you assume responsibility for tearing down the walls that marginalize people groups.

I've learned that doing the right thing doesn't always garner the results you had hoped for, but these are mini steps toward success.

I'm reminded that there is not a one-size-fits-all solution to issues of race.

I've learned that I cannot take the difficult out of transition for any new staff member no matter how hard I try.  Because in that discomfort there is learning to be done and that is the experience that I can give my staff.

I've learned that I am honest about the cultural tension on our campus and that matters.

I'm reminded that MOST members of this campus community love it here, are successful here, and want to savor and remember their days here.  And that matters.

I'm reminded that THIS is what I do, each and every day.  Bad days, hard situations, and steps back are part of it.  But it is still what I do.

I'm not done trying.  That is never the answer.  But I am sad, that out there, many miles from me now, is a hurting young woman who will never know what she could have been here with us.  For her, and for so many others, I will keep trying!

this moment

Linking with SouleMamma and many others:

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

they rock

I've had bad days.  But the bad days that get me are the ones in which someone attacks me for the very things that I work so hard to do well.  A few weeks ago I wrote about a situation in which a student and her parents accused me of writing her up for breaking the rules because I didn't like her.  She broke the rules.  I wrote her up.  That's the way it works.  I spend every working moment trying to be fair and equitable and being told I'm not strikes right to the core.

There's probably only one other accusation a person could make that would cut me more deeply - the accusation of hurting people, intentionally, on the basis of their race.  

It's true.  I am frustrated with the narrow-mindedness of my employing institution.  

It's true.  I have a naive idea that I can change the world by simply wanting to include people who are different or who don't fit in seamlessly.

It's true.  I make mistakes.

But I have not, and never will, work with intention to hurt another person.  And, THAT knocks me to my knees. 

I won't sleep tonight.  Or for days to come.  And the most frustrating part is that I cannot change the perception.  I cannot change this situation.  There are moments when I've questioned my professional self.  And, lately, those moments seem to run one into another.  

Why am I pursuing a vision of justice for this place?  Is it worth chasing?  Am I alone in the pursuit?  Should I even be here? In this place? At this time?  Do I have anything left to give this profession?  Am I too burned out?

Just as I'm emptied and am limping through the response letter on my computer in walks four friendly faces.  Faces that will love me for a lifetime.  Faces that will forgive me when I fail.  Faces that are sincerely saddened because Mama's had a bad day.  Faces that are kind because they want me to feel better.  Faces followed by hugs and lots and lots of love.

All I can think is "My family rocks!"  These kids of mine are kind and loving and compassionate.  This Papa of mine rocks my world.  These people of mine are the light of my life!

Whether I'm supposed to keep working here or move onto to other things, I don't know.  But, I do know, that no matter what, I can do ANYTHING with Papa Bear, Mr. Man, Peace, and Pie at my side.  And that is worth everything!

this moment

Linking with SouleMamma and many others:

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

 

impromptu

We found ourselves on campus Friday night with 45 minutes of unplanned time. This was quite by accident, of course, because Mama forgot how to read the events calendar.  Ahem. 

For weeks now, Pie has been clamoring to climb the large round orb just outside the student center.  The orb was constructed as an art piece, but it's been a favorite photo op for students over the years. As any good parent would, we let the kids climb all over it.  And, they had a ball.  Of course, Papa and I lost a few short years from our lives as Pie climbed higher than the older two and well out of our reach.  But, no one got hurt.  Not. even. a. bit.

sweet lessons

What a glorious day it has been!

75 degrees and sunshine on this very first day of Spring.  Seasonally unusual, they say.  I'm 38 years old and I cannot recall a start to Spring that has been as graceful, as colorful, as welcoming!

So I played hooky.  Ahem.  Not exactly, but I did volunteer to chaperone eight second graders on their maple sugaring field trip.  This is a first for us and having read Amanda,who writes so beautifully about the community inherent in the traditions of maple sugaring, we were quite excited.

I was so impressed and a little intimidated by what these second graders knew.  As we traveled station to station through the sugaring trail, they answered questions about American history, identified trees, predicted new inventions and materials used to make sugaring more efficient.  Smart little people, they are.

I quickly realized that they weren't the only smart creatures that required a bit of attention and reflection.  It occurred to me that every bit of nature is as smart as these little people and far more wise than humanity.

The flowers. They know when it's time to wake their nesting bulbs and peer through the earth.

The birds. They know when it's warm enough to fly north.

The trees. They know how to store food during winter and exactly when and where to deliver that food store as the days grow longer and warmer.

Totally in synch with the earth and the seasons.  It's probably six weeks early this year.  But, each and every creature knows that it is time.

I stood awe-struck at the wisdom of nature.  What lessons we can learn!

I've been thinking, for quite a while now, about the idea of being called.  As I walked through the woods today I wondered what inside each tree prompts it to awaken.  Does it have a calling, a sense of something larger than itself compelling it to do what it does?  

I wondered if being called and honoring that calling could really be so simple.

The notion of being called brings my mind immediately to religious icons such as Mother Teresa.  In her stories and others, I always imagine a calling to be quite clear.  Somewhat of a "slap me over the head with it" kind of knowing.  

I also imagine that being called amounts to something big - something really big - for example, the legacies of Ghandi or Martin Luther King.  I wonder if being called was as clear and convincing and compelling as it seems only knowing their stories.

It, too, seems to me that nature knows its place and purpose.  It seems to me that nature keeps itself open to possibility.  It seems to me that nature remains connected in ways that make fulfilling its purpose possible.  It seems to me that nature does not get in its own way.  

It simply becomes what it is supposed to be. Perhaps that is the sweetest lesson of all!