In Exploration
A couple of weeks ago, I finished a book about balance that had been on my list for a long time. It resonated for me, but many of the examples were from the corporate world and I was struggling with how to apply the book’s principles to my public-sector world.
So I sent the author an email asking if he could help me figure it out.
I got an email back within 24 hours with a four-minute voice memo asking thoughtful questions, giving me broad-strokes ideas to think about, and sharing ideas from his experience with public school teachers. The recording started out with an explanation that a voice memo felt more “efficient and intimate” (his words, not mine) than an email. He closed by saying that he hoped his words from a stranger on the internet proved at least a little bit useful (they did).
This response blew me away, partially in content but mostly in thoughtfulness. I couldn’t stop thinking the phrase “what a gift.” Receiving such a thoughtful, kind, practical, and timely response from someone who owes me nothing felt affirming in a way it’s hard to explain.
He’s right of course - talking is more efficient in terms of thinking than writing, and hearing someone’s voice (especially for someone like me, the only auditory learner I know) is more personal than reading an email. I also give him extra points for using the word “intimate” with a complete stranger in a totally non-creepy way. Correctness aside, I was struck by what a kind gesture it was to take the extra time, to think about the person on the other end of the communication and their experience of the response. I’ll be thinking about his grace, and the space it made for me to continue to explore the possibilities of what balance looks like in my larger life, for a long time.
In Trials
The other unexpected kindness this week was more somber. My dog ripped open a bag of coffee and ate an undetermined amount. This, for non-dog owners, is very, very bad. The evening ended with several hours (and a ridiculous amount of money) spent at the emergency vet. The results were, fortunately, positive, and we were able to bring her home the next day. Even through all my worry and guilt, when we dropped her off and went to visit at 6:00 the next morning, I was struck by the kindness of the environment and the people there.
The techs referred to the animals as “babies” (as in, “let’s focus on getting this baby ready for hospitalization and then shift over to making this baby comfortable”), which felt much personal - intimate - in a soothing way. It was a hectic and heartbreaking night there, with many emergencies much more severe than ours. But at no moment did I feel the stress of the moment directed at people or animals. The staff’s care for these fuzzy family members was unquestionable and, while seeing the tech cradle my dog’s head the same way I do when she was getting an catheter placed undid me, it also made me feel like I was leaving her in the best place she could be given the circumstances.
Extreme tenderness under extraordinary stress feels like a profound gift of grace.
We were lucky: we got to be the success story of that evening. She got to come home, relatively unscathed. The fact that the techs interacting with us knew Harriet’s name, knew what she was there for, and knew where she was in her treatment plan without having to (obtrusively anyway) look at a chart, soothed my frayed nerves and my slowed my heart rate back to manageable. To know that they walk these lines with people throughout their very long days (12-14 hour shifts, based on our unofficial calculations of who we saw at which times of day) took my breath away.
I’d love to hear about any grace you’ve received from strangers, or any unexpected kindness you’d like to share.
Post Script:
It wouldn’t be right to tell this story without including the grace of people I do know, too: the colleagues who knew without explaining how difficult anything related to an “emergency vet” is and who knew to tell me how much money they’ve spent on their own pets to allay the guilt. My boss texting me to check in on a Saturday (after getting only a short version of the story in passing). My friends who picked up the phone and listened to the processing of it all. The friends and mentors I saw during the field trip I had on the day she was hospitalized who lifted my spirits without even knowing they needed lifting. I’m deeply grateful for grace in any form.
I’m looking forward to teaching a variety of classes in December, and I hope you’ll be able to join me.
I have long struggled with winter as a season, and have only in the past few years come to see its value and look forward to it the way I do other seasons. I’m excited to share the winter solstice workshop with this community - bring a journal, a cup of something warm to drink, and your comfiest clothes.