What will be revealed to us
January 6th I woke up to an email in my inbox about epiphanies from one of my favorite writers. I was relieved it wasn’t another email about goal setting or new year’s resolutions. I write things down in the form of a list every day, I make plans—or used to, and I put one foot in front of the other. Haven’t we learned anything from last year? Goal setting is so 2019.
Epiphanies, the way she explained it, could be the off-chance result of having a splash of understanding. Or the aha-moment could appear at the end of working through a purposeful, hard-slogging, figuring-out process. Either way, that idea, the possibility of experiencing an epiphany this day, or any day, made my spirit soar. What would be revealed to me? I wondered.
Savoring the moment with my half-n-half-infused coffee and opened laptop, I read, and was excited about, the news in Georgia. I was looking forward to two Zoom sessions with clients that morning and facilitating a Storytelling workshop in the afternoon. Hope I’m not too busy to notice when the epiphany hits, I laughed to myself.
Did you hear what’s going on at the Capitol? Client #2 asked as soon as we connected over Zoom. I had been lost in the delight of coaching Client #1. I have no notifications, no interruptions and no desire to check social media before, during or in between clients. [Resolutions from a few years ago that stuck.]
So no, I didn’t know.
After our meaty session, I raced down the stairs and found two of my kids, Charlie and Joey, watching the news. My husband Duncan was sitting on the couch as well.
Jaws were dropped, eyes were glued, and hearts were broken.
We were going back and forth between CNN and Fox News. [I’m always telling them how important it is to see the same story told in different ways.]
Right as Political Commentator David Axelrod [okay, okay we spend more time on CNN] was about to give his opinion, Joey decided it was the perfect moment to offer a thought of his own.
I yelled Joey’s name in an attempt to quiet him. My husband Duncan joined in and said, Ahh come on, Joey! while Charlie snapped his fingers, pointed at his brother and went Ssh!
Don’t snap at your brother! I yelled.
Then, as Charlie was about to open his mouth, I did the only thing I could think of...I ran upstairs. [I know what happens when I add gasoline to a family fire.]
I told myself I had to get ready for the Storytelling workshop. I told myself 50 students were going to need me on Zoom in an hour. I told myself to cool down, to retreat, to hide. I wasn’t happy with ‘the fam’ but I wasn’t very happy with myself, either. I’m sure David Axelrod had something interesting to say but did I really need to snap at two of my most beloved people?
About ten minutes later, as I was making last minute revisions to the agenda, Charlie knocked on the door.
He said he wanted to apologize. “I'm also mad, though,” he admitted as he slid into the other chair.
I closed my computer so I could listen. He talked out loud about what happened downstairs. He approached his words carefully. We sifted through who said what... and how...and why. The conversation zig-zagged a bit.
Charlie started to see, or was reminded of, the dynamic, the impact and the implications of being the oldest child and big brother. I owned my baggage of trying to protect his younger brother, of being the youngest in my family growing up.
While we both acknowledged what we could have done differently, the conversation was deeper than just an apology. We talked about what happened at the Capitol, our fears, our anger and how tense the whole situation was making us feel.
The words were honest and tender. The tone was loving and kind. The connection was real and true. We hugged. And then we hugged again.
As he was about to close the office door, I said, “Thank you. You’re the one who came upstairs. You expressed yourself and stayed curious throughout this whole conversation. Your words and your actions gave us both the gift of working through our feelings.... together.”
He smiled. And so did I. Because it's easy to back away from the conversations you don't want to have. It’s messy. It takes time. It takes looking honestly at your part… not just focusing on what the other person did.
When he left, I smiled again. Because I can’t wait to see what young adult leaders with empathy, insight and courage like him will do.
We’re bound together. Families, communities, countries. This past year we’ve certainly learned that. But the news keeps trying to tell us how different we all are. And the insurrection at the Capitol certainly confirmed a dark and destructive current.
But today...today, I’m going to lean in to hoping for more...more for this world, for this country, for each other. For a leader who won’t get everything right but is brave enough, and frankly, loves our country enough, to have the hard conversations, to do the right thing.
This year, our epiphanies will probably lean more towards a ‘purposeful, hard-slogging, figuring-out process’ than a ‘splash of sudden understanding.’ A new administration, a rolling out of vaccines, and trying to move through life safely, respectfully, and still joyously... it's going to take time and work and lots of courage and patience.
But I’m going to remind myself to embrace the moment, to stay curious and, most of all, to keep the faith.