A Picture Is More than the Paint You See: The Layering Of A Life


After an almost two-year hiatus due to living through the COVID pandemic, I’m grateful to return to my blog. I hope my stories will continue to inspire!

Now, onto the new lesson…

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I admit to having a habit of scrolling through YouTube videos when I’m bored. I am especially fascinated by artists who paint.

One evening, I watched a young woman paint a portrait of herself underwater. I saw the finished picture as she demonstrated her technique. What captured my attention was her initial use of only the color red to outline her subject matter.

I watched as she began using other colors to build texture, definition and depth to the painting. I also marveled at and was inspired by her ability to bring her vision to light and by her process, as well as by how her picture was formed layer by layer.

This led me to think about how I, like many others, compartmentalize my life — I grew from child to adolescent to young adult to older adult — and viewed each as a stage I lived through then went on to the next. However, my goal is to not rush too quickly to the next stage; I try to savor the good of where I am and learn from the bad when possible, recognizing that past experiences may be preparation for my life’s future.

How would my life narrative change if instead of viewing it as a series of beginning and ending stages that I intentionally keep separate — like colors in an artist’s palette — I viewed them as layers in my life’s masterpiece? It’s a worthy goal to be sure.

So, for the artist in all of us…here’s to painting and living your life in layers!

The Burden of Leadership: The Art of Maintaining Your Crown


“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.” (Paraphrased from Shakespeare’s play Henry IV, Part 2: “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”)

I’ve been silent for almost a year because the last two blogs, while I hope were helpful to some, took a great deal out of me in their retelling.

I now feel that I’m ready to cultivate some old ground in a new way as a result of my experiences over the past five years in a C-Suite leadership position.

I distinctly remember the day I was offered the job of leading one of the largest organizations of its type in my state; I knew that I had very limited experience as a president and chief executive officer, but had every confidence that this was a “God assignment” for me at this point in my career. I described it at the time by saying that, I felt like I was in the deep end of a pool; I didn’t know how deep the water, but I knew how to swim!

My initial reaction was fear and self doubt: could I really handle an organization of this size knowing that the budget was over $40 million and that more than 400 people would depend on my leadership of an organization in turmoil due to my predecessor’s imprisonment, as well as funders’ questioning whether the organization was still viable? Could I build a team of leaders to support the monumental work that had to be done to transform an organizational culture that had become stagnant? Could I cast a vision that clearly articulated who we are as an organization and what we aspire to be in service to our staff, customers, and our community? Could I help our staff eliminate the silos that had been constructed with heavy duty concrete and reinforced by departmental prejudices and unhealthy competition? And, finally, could I help the organization become one of learning and innovation rather than one that primarily sought to simply keep what it had rather than risk more to serve better?

The answers to these questions could not be found in my past because I didn’t have a frame of reference for the enormity of the problems or the experience of leading an organization of this type or magnitude. What I did have, and what I depended totally on, was my belief that I was sent to the organization by God to do my part in its restoration. I’ve written in past blogs about having “Esther moments” that are biblicaly described as being prepared “for such a time as this” (Esther 4:14).

I’ve also recounted in other blogs how difficult this particular journey has been due to unforeseen obstacles like external threats and threats from “friends” who meant to kill me professionally. Those attacks were the most difficult, but God reminded me that, “…the time will come when people will kill you and think they are doing God a favor” (John 16:2 CEV).

Each attack was an opportunity to walk in grace with God. In fact, God gave me the imagery that I had a crown on my head to remind me that it matters how I walk through my trials, being confident that I am not alone — He’s with me. So, whenever I enter an unfamiliar or potentially hostile environment, I put my imaginary crown on my head and act as if nothing can penetrate the protection that God gives me simply because I belong to and trust in Him.

I have to admit that I’ve become fixated on this notion of a crown, so much so that I have purchased items and placed them around me as reminders. Like one recent poster acquisition: “On my darkest days when I feel inadequate, unloved and unworthy, I remember whose daughter I am and I straighten my crown.” Or another poster that says, “Be a Pineapple: Stand Tall, Wear a Crown and Be Sweet.” Or, finally the crown charm that I’ve placed on my bracelet that I view throughout my day. These visuals remind me that, leadership is very much like wearing a crown: your subjects (i.e., your staff and your customers) and your benefactors (i.e., your funders, sponsors and superiors) are looking to you to lead and to do it well.

Unfortunately, a skewed or unpolished crown is often the first head gear you receive when you are new to leadership. However, over time and with experiences — challenges, failures and triumphs — your crown becomes more fixed on your head and it acquires a shine that is difficult to ignore. Changes in your crown may be noted in: (1) your posture (how you stand), (2) your voice (how and what you say), and (3) your perspective, which broadens to encompass the multiple roles leadership requires such as caretaker, cheerleader, taskmaster, motivator, and the list goes on. In the case of the Chief Executive Officer (CEO), add the roles of Commander-in-Chief, visionary, advocate, bookkeeper and “rainmaker” (lead fundraiser) among others.

Finally, I’ve learned that, while the crown of leadership may be heavy on occasion and the burden of wearing it may become back or shoulder bending, too, the rewards can be even greater than the burden because I can affect change that is more impactful for my organization and those I lead and those we serve. And, with each success, I am reminded that I am only a caretaker of my leadership crown — it is a responsibility that God has given me; I must maintain it and wear it with humility and complete confidence knowing that, even though it’s heavy, I am not holding it up by myself — God made me its steward, not it’s owner!

Happy polishing!

Consent Isn’t Always Consensual


NATIONAL SEXUAL ASSAULT HOTLINE 1-800-656-4673

RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network)  https://www.rainn.org

In 2012, when I started this blog, I promised God and myself that I would share my experiences with the goal of inspiring others.

So, in the wake of the Brett Kavanaugh hearings, the #MeToo movement and the #WhyIDidn’tReport Twitter feed, an over 30-year old experience that I placed in a high security vault and buried deep in my memory has decided it is time to have its say. I called the event then “my humiliation,” but later the term that most aptly applied was “date rape.”

This long silent memory was reawakened with the thought: I’ve heard people recently talk about their willingness to take a lie detector test to prove their innocence or truthfulness regarding disputed “intimate interactions”: both the accused and the accuser are certain they will pass and do pass the test. This caused me to wonder how that could happen? How can both be right? The answer became abundantly clear in light of my own experience: the accused may have viewed the interaction as having the person’s consent; the accuser may have experienced it as coercsion.

I’ve written extensively about my past and, in particular, my divorce. It was during this period, I returned to college (and campus living) and began attending events with my friends. At one of these events, I met a guy, who seemed to be genuine and interesting. He asked me to dance and the rest of the evening we spent in good conversation and trying out new dance moves. I had a great time!

Before the night ended, he asked to take me out to dinner the following evening. I gave him my phone number (mistake #1 — didn’t get his) and he called shortly after I arrived at my dorm to agree on a pick up time.

When he arrived, I got in the car (mistake #2 — should have agreed to meet somewhere) and on the way to the restaurant, he said that he forgot something at home and had to stop and pick it up. He parked and asked me to wait inside his house while he retrieved it. I said okay (mistake #3 — should have stayed in the car). Shortly thereafter, I learned that he had locked the door and had no plans of opening it without a concession that included my body. My choices in that moment as I saw them were: (1) say no and demand to leave (did that, it didn’t work); (2) fight with the possibility of injury or death; or (3) capitulate and, hopefully, be released. After the first option failed and I decided not to fight my way out (this was on the heels of working through my previous domestic violence abuse), I chose #3 — the only option I thought gave me the best chance of getting out of there unhurt. (I later learned through this and other experiences that some hurts can’t be seen on the surface, but are scars that are buried deep in your soul).

Once the deed was done, he acted as if all was well, while I felt haunted in my own body! He planned to take me to the restaurant as before, but I said that I wanted to go back to my dorm.

During the ride, he kept up a steady stream of conversation, while I hugged myself and huddled in the corner of the front seat waiting for the ride to end. As soon as he parked, I jumped out of the car and walked quickly away without a backward glance.

Once in my dorm, I confided to my roommates what happened. They urged me to file a police report, but all I could think about was how humiliated I felt by the experience and the strong belief that the police would blame me for going into his house and bargaining with my body for my release (this was in the early 80s, three decades before the #MeToo movement). I was also just piecing my life back together and the thought of opening up a Pandora’s box was less than appealing to me. So, I decided to lock the experience — and it’s associated memories and feelings — away “as if it never happened.”

A year or more later, I was surprised by my resilience; I didn’t dwell on my humiliation at all! In fact, I thought  I had successfully moved on until I attended a friend’s house party and the rapist was there. I froze! My boyfriend (now my husband of 33 years) became concerned and asked me if I was alright. I finally told him about that night. Intensely angry, my boyfriend approached the guy, which opened the door to my confronting him about raping me. The guy looked seriously surprised by my accusation and then proceeded to apologize IF he did something wrong. I told him that he did and the only reason I didn’t call the police was that I didn’t know his address. I walked away feeling some closure, but also knowing, because of my response to seeing him, that the scar was (and remains) very present, and it’s a reminder to me to do everything within my power to make sure it never happens again.

Those 30-year old feelings of humiliation, powerlessness and fear resurfaced with recent stories of sexual abuse by powerful men —  I hate that!  But I can do little about those feelings other than to honor them for what they are, be thankful that I’ve survived and thrived, and to share my story so that people will know that consent is not always consensual.

If you are the victim of sexual abuse, please call the National Sexual Assault Hotline at 1-800-656-4673 (https://www.rainn.org) or your local Rape Crisis Center for help and support.

Is Your “Pot” Too Small For Your Dreams?


I’ve been staring at my bamboo plant in my office because I know that I need to repot it; it’s too big for its current pot. It wasn’t always. It started as a small plant in a small pot, but I knew that it needed more room in order to continue to grow.

Several months ago, I went to the store and purchased a new pot and soil. I lovingly transferred the bamboo to the new pot and watered it weekly. After about 3 weeks, I noticed new shoots growing out of the soil — I didn’t expect those; I just assumed that my plant would continue to grow upward as it had been.

Now, my bamboo plant is tall and has so many new shoots, its leaves are wilting because its current environment is no longer conducive to its growth and health.

I’ve written before about the process of transformational growth (See “Personal Transformation Has a Cost: Are You Willing To Pay?,” May 6, 2012):

From the time we are born we are changing or transforming. We don’t often think about transformation in that way, we simply see it as part of a natural process. What made me think about this is the fact that I have had to transform in order to achieve the things that were important to me — e.g., good grades, college education, job, promotion, etc.– or to pursue more personal things like a happy marriage, peace of mind, a spiritual connection with God, passion and purpose.

Each pursuit required a change in my thinking and behavior, which ultimately changed who I was and how I identified me to myself and to others. I’ve come to understand my transformational process as similar to something that happens in nature… For example, when a snake matures (stay with me!), it must shed its outer skin in order to grow. It’s called molting. If it does not shed its skin, it dies — it smothers in its old skin. I believe we humans are often prone to the same thing because we choose not to change our “skin,” meaning our thinking in order to pursue something new and different, especially when we know that our old skin no longer fits us.

I realize that I didn’t go far enough in my explanation because I talked about the internal environment (i.e., thoughts, attitudes, behaviors, etc.) that must change in order to become a better you, but I neglected the external environment that is equally important to one’s growth.

This includes simple questions like, “With whom do I choose to spend time — do they help or hinder my progress toward my better self?” “What places do I choose to inhabit — do they energize me or do I feel drained when I’m there?” “What am I spending my free time doing — am I learning or doing anything that helps others or myself?” These are all important “pot” issues because they determine if your environment is nurturing or restricting your growth.

Like my bamboo plant, I wonder what new shoots are lying dormant within me because I’ve allowed my growth to be contingent upon the size of my current pot — my environment— rather than the size of my dreams, goals and aspirations. But, as many of us know, changing environments means that you have to leave the old one and venture out into a new often unknown environment, and that’s scary, especially when you don’t know what the new will bring.

Ultimately, your new growth will require an investment in a new pot/environment. This may take the form of going back to school for additional training, leaving an unfulfilling job, seeking counseling to change habitual self-defeating thought patterns, saying goodbye to relationships that constantly take more than they contribute, choosing to break “enabling” behavior patterns that keep you guilt ridden and tied to a past and people you no longer want in your life, and attending events that have your future in mind even though your present self-talk says you’re not worthy to participate.

I know that I have to invest in a new pot for my plant; it’s well past the time to do so if I want it to continue to grow.

So, how about you: have you made the decision to invest in a new “pot” for yourself? I certainly hope so because, like a potbound plant, your “roots” — dreams, goals and aspirations — may die because they have no outlet to spread beyond their current confines.

The Harlem Renaissance Poet Langston Hughes in his poem Harlem, said it this way:

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

Happy planting!

How Do You Measure A Year in Your Life?


I recently looked at my blog and realized that I hadn’t written anything in over a year. I was amazed!! But, I’ve learned that I can only write when God inspires me. So, after more than 15 months of silence, I heard in my spirit, “How do you measure a year in your life?”

This simple question was prompted by a song from the Broadway and movie musical Rent entitled Seasons of Love. These are the lyrics that inspire me:

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Moments so dear
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure – measure a year?
In daylights – in sunsets
In midnights – in cups of coffee
In inches – in miles
In laughter – in strife
In – five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure
A year in the life

I’ve written about my journey from darkness to relevance, from questioning God to a deeper understanding of myself in relation to God, and a recognition that God truly does “work everything together for my good” (Romans 8:28) when I trust Him.

This has been especially true in the past year; I’ve had amazing experiences — some great and others that were heart and soul wrenching and demonstrated that My definition of friendship may be significantly different from someone else’s.

The year has also been eye-opening in learning the depth of my conviction and willingness to risk when, by conventional wisdom, it would be easier to walk away.

The question that kept popping up was, “What is my soul worth?”

Is it worth betraying my faith in God’s ability to right wrongs and to bring me out of a nightmare when I don’t see an end to the madness and only hear Him say “trust Me?”

Is it worth continually standing up to bullies in friend’s clothing, whose mouths say one thing and their behavior another?

Is it worth reminding God of His promise to fight my battles and to hold on even though the war appeared to be lost?

Or is it worth standing still, being prayerful and asking for wisdom like King Solomon to ensure that God gets the glory when it’s all said and done?

The Year found me constantly asking God for guidance, direction, vindication, strength and wisdom. With every prayer — whether answered immediately or still pending — God demonstrated His faithfulness in a whispered comment that gave me a different perspective or a catalytic idea that propelled me forward.

I’m sure there are lots of things that would be good measures of my year, but let me identify the ones that were the most impactful:

  • I didn’t fully know who I was and what I believed until I was tested — this was where “walking my talk” took on real meaning.
  • Faith in God is more than a scripture or slogan, it’s the foundation of everything I will do for God and that He will do for me. However, I don’t believe that God requires that I have perfect faith, otherwise I would constantly disappoint Him. But, I do believe He wants my heart to be open to Him; He doesn’t require me to be anything but a human who loves and wants to serve Him…faults and all, even when I’m unsure.
  • Seasons come and go and this includes relationships. Instead of trying to hold on to something (or someone) that has outlasted its season, it’s always better for me to bless and release whatever or whomever’s season is fast approaching an end.
  • Sometimes I’ve had to stand up when it would have been much easier to lie down…but my spirit wouldn’t let me. Another way of saying this is, “If you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything!” (Alexander Hamilton)
  • When lights are turned on in a house, things that live in the dark have no place to hide.
  • Good soldiers are battle tested — these are the ones I want with me in war because they hold themselves, each other and me accountable in the victory.
  • A lie told a thousand different ways is still a lie.
  • Truth is truth — whether it pertains to me as a person or a difficult situation. The truth will eventually have the final word.

So, how did I measure the Year? As the song in Rent goes, 525,600 minutes of What??!! and Wow!!!

 

An Introduction To…Myself


I have written before about the journey that I am on as we prepare to create a museum. What has been resonating within me lately as a result of this process is the question, “Who am I?”

You see, I’ve defined myself throughout the course of my life through various titles including “daughter,” “sister,” “wife,” “mother,” “grandmother;” “student,” “secretary,” “department manager,” “admissions counselor,” “director,” “associate vice president,” “vice president,” “chief executive officer” and the list goes on.

But my overarching question is:  “What’s in a title?” I have found that titles are quick ways of identifying ourselves to others or for determining the category we believe they should be placed. They are also a means of making sense of who we are to ourselves.

I know that this is a deep, philosophical post, but think about it:

* How do you currently introduce yourself to someone? Do you first include your professional title or some other personal characteristic?

* What do you include in your running dialogue in your head about who you are?

Much of my school years from elementary through college were spent living up to someone’s beliefs about me. I’m fortunate in that many people thought that I had tremendous potential, so I worked hard to live up to that even when I wasn’t confident that I could. You see, I wanted so much to earn their faith that it compelled me to work to that end. I have joked with several friends that I deserve an academy award for portraying Jackie for so many years!

I am privileged to have made it to a time in my life where the “who I am” is about finding and being my authentic self – absent the titles. I get to discover and choose how I define me to myself and others! What a gift!

One of my favorite poems is by Marianne Williamson entitled Our Deepest Fear

   Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

   It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.

  We ask ourselves, “Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?”

   Actually, who are you not to be?

   You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world.

   There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.

   We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.

   It’s not just in some of use; it’s in everyone.

   And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

   As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

So, I have come to this place of self-enlightenment where my God-given light, as Ms. Williamson notes, may shine as bright as it was created to shine.

May you do the same!