ISBC 19 - Shock, Silence, and Stillness
Chapter 19 of Hope: A User's Manual
There’s a kind of hope that is carefree. I would argue that it’s a less mature version of hope. Sometimes the world shocks us, and we aren’t always better for it. We never fly with as much abandon as we do before colliding with the window. But with time and stillness, we may gain the strength to take flight again.1
I’ve often “collided with windows” in my life as I am sure most everyone has. We have all had moments like what MaryAnn describes in this chapter. There are two that stirred for me as I read this chapter and one of them I don’t know if I’ve ever shared before. One was in 5th grade and the other the next year at the Catholic school I was attending at the time.
In 5th grade, my teacher gave us an assignment where we would have to do a presentation for the class. This was, of course, LONG before the days of powerpoint, video presentations, etc. It was simply standing in the front of the class at a podium and speaking. I remember only a few things about what happened. First, I don’t know what it was that day but when I got up to share, I could not keep my legs still. My nervousness came out with my legs moving up and down, moving around, etc. The second thing I remember was my teacher laughing as I shared. She was laughing so hard (not the out loud type laughter but the laughter of someone trying to keep it in because they know they shouldn’t be laughing) that she couldn’t say anything after I was done and I sat down. That’s what I remember. I don’t remember the grade that I got and I don’t remember her reaching out to me at all about her laughing.
The second was a year later. I was taking a math test and I was the first to finish. I handed in my test and sat back down at my desk and pulled out a sheet of paper and began drawing. I was drawing an Egyptian desert scene - pyramids, sand, etc - when my teacher came by my desk a few minutes later and loudly said that maybe I should have checked my answers a few more times before I started wasting my time drawing. He picked up my drawing and handed my test back to me with several mistakes in red and the grade (I don’t remember what the grade was now) in a large letter at the top. He told the whole class my grade and said something about how everyone else should learn from me and not waste time on other things before being sure my answers were correct. And to top it all off, he taped my Egypt scene to the chalkboard in the front of the class.
As I write this now, the feelings that I remember with both were shame and embarrassment. Remembering how things were in that school, I am sure I also heard all about both things from other students the rest of the day. I don’t think I ever told my family about what happened with either. But what I do know is that in the immediate years that followed, I really hated any times of getting up to speak in front of people and I also pretty much quit doing much of anything artistic other than a stick figure comic book that me and some friends worked on during junior high. I also was incredibly risk averse - avoiding anything where I might look silly or be embarrassed. How ironic it is that nearly 40 years later, I speak in front of people for a living (pastor/preacher) and also I regularly practice and share an art form (photography)...
I don’t write this to blame those two teachers. I understand how hard it is to be a teacher and to always be “on.” As a pastor, I can understand some of that. But those were two moments of “colliding with windows” that have stuck with me. I am grateful for the ways in which I have grown to be able to share in the ways that I do today. But I think of the ways that shame hamstrung me for years and the ways that shame does that in the lives of so many.
Like others, I have deeply resonated with the work of Brene Brown and her studies on the destructive power of shame in our lives. To just drop one quote from her work here would undercut the full depth of what she shares, especially in her book Daring Greatly.2 But I will share one of them because it is what I have done in this reflection today.
As I look back on what I’ve learned about shame, gender, and worthiness, the greatest lesson is this: If we’re going to find our way out of shame and back to each other, vulnerability is the path and courage is the light.3
These are vulnerable stories that I shared - they go back to events that have held me back from so much and even as I wrote them, I felt embarrassed about how these moments affected me and likely the ways that they still affect me today. But it is in sharing these “window colliding” moments that I see the hope that has emerged as I have experienced healing and continue to heal. But that healing has come about through the presence and grace of beautiful people who have come into my life who have shown me new ways to fly and new ways to live, notably my wife. She has shown me the joy of trying to fly and sometimes succeeding and sometimes not but getting up to try again. She has been patient with me in the times when I am pulling back or trying to get back into my “hobbit hole” and has opened me to so much more.
The photo for today is a beautiful art piece that our middle child made for us. She created it during her senior year and it is the ways that my wife and I compliment each other. She is the one with the idea balloons floating up and pulling me out the door while I’m the one helping to ground her but moving into life. It is such a beautiful piece and speaks to me of this healing and this hope.
No question for today only a simple blessing… May you find places of healing and restoration from your life’s window collisions. May you have people who come into your life who can help lead you out of the places of shame and embarrassment and into the hope of healing and restoration.
Grace, Peace, Love, and Joy,
Ed
McKibben Dana, MaryAnn. Hope: A User's Manual (p. 91). Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.. Kindle Edition.
I cannot recommend her books highly enough especially Daring Greatly, The Gift of Imperfection, and Braving the Wilderness. But all of them are amazing.
Brown, Brené. Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead (p. 110). Penguin Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.
The artwork of you and Amy! FABULOUS!!