The Post-Conference, Vulnerability Hangover and other Musings

There are a lot of thoughts that go through my head after women get together, share vulnerable spaces, and return to the hustle of every-day life. Mostly, I want to curl up in the bath, or, stare at the ceiling. Prior and post-conference conversations continue to swirl in our community about women in leadership — women who preach. And, the scars of trauma tenderly held by women leaders and pastors on the frontlines last weekend sits with me. Trauma is suffering that doesn’t go away. The stories of women warriors not only fighting the enemy, but fighting evangelical dominant culture is a cost to us on two levels.

I try to remember the sweet moments, the nerves — what it was like to listen to stories of other brave souls in my community. I don’t enjoy the anxiety that hunts me down before I speak. However, I love being available in a different way to my community.

Bravery. Closeness. Healing. Resurrection.

Real life doesn’t wait. Tonight, my daughter came home from middle school and an afternoon of soccer. She asked me if I would help her with her homework assignment for social studies. I said, “What is it?” She responded, “I need to interview someone I admire.” To be honest, I was stunned she chose me. She continued, “When you speak out when things are wrong, I admire you. I know you will stand up for people.” Her request follows my impatient attitude (yesterday) with her for throwing her clothes all over her room. The clothes are in “piles.” I think she knows which clothes are which, but I wanted her to have them put away. Why did I make such a big deal out of it? I had made a point to tell her and let her know how frustrated I was with her. Why?! I am preaching tolerance, respect, openness and here I am angry over clothes on the floor.

I asked for her forgiveness, but I probably need to forgive myself. It is easier to beat myself up after being in public, speaking about trauma and healing. A sense of inadequacy looms over me, trying to derail the goodness my daughter is offering me. Grace isn’t just for everyone else, it is for me, too. I can slow down. I can say no to requests for conversations. I can say yes to spontaneous ice creams and chips.

My body needs grace after carrying so much responsibility. And, grace for the journey parenting, loving well, and so much more.

“Life is not just one moment. We live it well in one moment, but it cannot be summed up in one moment.”

My kid needs to know I can offer myself grace just as much as she needs grace from me. I cannot wrap this up for me or for you. It leaves me with a question for you all:

Where can you offer yourself grace? Does your body need a break? Or, maybe a kind word? Give it a try. I’ll be struggling with the same thing over here.