Beautiful Vulnerability: Strength Under Pressure

My parents died in 2019 and 2020, and to say there were mixed feelings would be a vast understatement. Growing up, I resented them because of the things I experienced as a kid, the pain of not being protected or prioritized, the sense of rejection and lack of worth that followed me because of how they saw (or didn't see) me. Eventually, I was able to see them with more compassion, understand more of their experiences and how those experiences colored who they were; none of that made it better, but understanding helped unload years of misplaced guilt and devastated shame. The wounds are healed, but the scar tissue remains.

When they died, I realized quite suddenly that there was no more "later." No more chances to glean bits of wisdom, ask deeper questions, or listen again to their stories. There's a certain shock when you're barely through your 30s and already an orphan - such an old-fashioned term! My parents were less than ideal, and I often felt orphaned in terms of lacking leadership long before they were gone, but the loss of them hit me harder than expected.

With my parents gone, I discovered a deeper longing for a mentor - a sort of hunger for female wisdom and leadership. I met an incredible woman in a study group at my church, and in the years since, she's become every aspect of the mother I never had. Guide and teacher, support and friend, full of life and lessons and impossible strength. She's a wee little sassy spitfire from small-town Georgia, and she's so full of light even the wrinkles around her eyes are beautiful. And through her, I found another blessing: her quiet and unassuming husband.

Lately, every time I see the quote shared in the image above, these are the people who come to mind: my Mama, who sees herself as shabby, and Pop, whose hair has been gone so long very few people remember him with it. He had open-heart surgery this past week, and I watched as he held himself together with careful laughter despite incredible pain and difficult, gasping breaths. Through the surgery hours (and the days to follow), I watched her sit with outward calm and her trademark smile despite incredible fear of the future.

After 39 years of marriage, they argue over who loves who more, and they call each other cute things like "precious," and "my love," and "baby." Yesterday I had to hide a smile when she walked him to the bathroom, walked him back to his hospital bed...and as she helped him swing his legs back up from the floor with her usual businesslike get-it-done style, he said softly, "You're throwing me around a little hard, aren't you baby?" But he makes vulnerability something other than weakness. He accepts help with gentle strength, and she offers it unthinking, simply because it is needed and love is a verb.

There aren't a lot of writing wins on this week's Ta-da List. And it was worth it.

This week wasn't without progress though. Chapter 15 is coming along, and STILL FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM is still right on schedule.

We're thirty-five weeks away from the release of the expanded second edition of FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM, and since I've been spending much of my non-writing time brainstorming fun release week events - so if the excitement doesn't kill me before we get there, it's going to be an amazing time!

For now, I'd better get back to writing. So until next week: be grateful for the mentors in your life, in whatever capacity. Love your loved ones. And as always...