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Hanging In There?

I am a teacher. I am a practical person. I pack my lunch each day. I drive a little too far to work each day. I wear sensible shoes. I look really carefully when crossing the street, walking or driving. I understand some of the pitfalls of life. I try to avoid them. I don't use my phone while driving, well maybe a little. I try to get enough sleep. I try not to drink too much. I eat healthy. But sometimes, you just can't help what happens.

A few days ago, I was walking into school. I saw my favorite teacher coming out the front door. We always say the same thing each morning, "Buenos dias!" Except this morning, I could only say, "Buen..." My first thought was, why can't I finish this phrase? I almost thought I was having a stroke! Then I suddenly knew - I was falling. I tried to save my coffee, my hands, and then the next thing I knew I was down on the ground and my coffee was running downhill and was going to get me all wet. I had to get up. So I did. And that's when I also realized that I had broken my foot. Sensible shoes, or no, I had hurt myself pretty badly. 

Vulnerability doesn't sneak up on you until you are really at your most vulnerable. I keep learning these lessons on just how vulnerable I am at the least expected moments. 

About a year ago, this happened... I had the brilliant idea to let my students go sledding. I emailed parents to say, bring snow pants, bring gloves, bring it all. I would bring the sleds. We still had a few goodies up in the attic from when the kids were little - the plastic discs and gliders. Parents weren't worried. One got back to me to offer to help guide the kids at the end of the hill. Perfect. So that afternoon as soon as I got home, I went up to the attic to grab the sleds real quick, and then I fell. I didn't exactly know I fell, because I didn't land. I fell - but I didn't land! Anywhere. And I could see the floor real close up. And then I figured out where I was. Through the floor! Like feet hanging through the hall ceiling! I tried to scream but my lungs were in between some floor boards. I screamed and then I SCREAMED! "HELP!" I screamed again, in case they just thought I saw a mouse. And then someone grabbed my legs. Which was good, but wasn't exactly helpful. 

My son was yelling at me now, "Just drop! I got you!" But there was no way I could drop. I could see the blistery, splintery, jagged edges of wood just below my eyes and I knew that I would get pretty beaten up by those jabs. So I tried to say no. "What do you need?" my husband yelled. Finally, my son came up to the attic, my husband grabbed my legs and they both hoisted me up from opposite directions through the floor again. I came out pretty much unscathed. My hip hurt and had a bad bruise, but that was it. I had grabbed the arm of an old antique rocking chair, the one that had belonged to my father as a child, and it anchored me up in the attic. It saved me. After I could sit down, I just started laughing. We are so vulnerable.

Brené Brown likes to talk about vulnerability. She says that Vulnerability is essential for experiencing real love, joy, and true connection. And apparently true shock! I wonder though, what happens when we don't choose to be vulnerable and it just takes over us. I felt that way when I fell on the sidewalk and when I fell through the floor! I thought I was doing everything I could to stay strong, safe, and invincible. These traits would protect me against vulnerability. Who would have known that the rock I tripped over was there? Who would have known that the floor boards were going to give out? 

Emotionally it is often easy to choose the times we are vulnerable. I choose to let my guard down with my girlfriends. I choose when to tell stories about when I got in trouble to my kids. I choose to tell my husband about a bad experience, trusting and knowing that he will have my back. I choose when to let someone in whom I know can handle my truth. But sometimes we walk into a situation, like a loose floor board, and we are thrown without our choosing into vulnerability. We feel lost and out of sorts. That is when our defenses go up. We put up boundaries and shift our body language. "Protect at all costs," we tell ourselves. And this is good. We are allowed to do that. 

What seems impossible these days is protecting ourselves from the onslaught of violence in our world toward those who are most vulnerable. Children. Immigrants. Girls. Those in poverty. Those who are sick. Aren't they supposed to be cared for?  I'm sure they feel like the floor fell out from under them. We weren't supposed to be so vulnerable to this. We thought we had the right defenses against Rape, Extortion, Bigotry, Racism, Misogyny, Sexism, Murder. We thought we had a good government. We thought we had a democracy. We thought we had freedoms. We thought we had amendments that protected us. And suddenly, we are very vulnerable. People are choosing to break the norms, throw away the moral compasses, and worse, flaunt crime in the face of the law and the courts. And we have to fight back. We have to put up our best defenses against this regime. The most vulnerable among us are dying at the hands of this regime. 

It is hard to put up boundaries. It is hard to stay safe. We feel broken down. We feel unsure and unsafe. In our shock we think, "This can't be happening." Part of us is saying, "It's okay, just trust." The other part is screaming, "NO! STOP!" Others may tell us, "Just don't worry about it. They wanted this. This is what the people voted for." 

Do not listen to those voices. We must fight. We must lift our voices and scream. We must push back. We must climb out of this hole we are in and demand accountability. We are no longer just hanging in there. We are hanging by a thread. 

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