The Relief of Vulnerability

Yes, it has been more than a year since my last post.  Yes, I've missed this.

To quote Queen Elizabeth, "1992 is not a year on which I shall look back with undiluted pleasure.  In the words of one of my more sympathetic correspondents, it has turned out to be an annus horribilis." 

I won't elaborate, except to say the past 12 months have been among my most exhausting, where self-talk seemed to be on an endless loop, "Buck up, Beth and DEAL with it."  There has been joy too, and many, many blessings.  But mostly this has been an adult year with adult challenges, where a gritty strength was needed; a year when even kind and caring friends looked at the challenges ahead and counseled me to give up and move on.  And yet, stubborn as I am, I'm still here fighting.  And we won--a big "Round One" anyway.

And yes, things are better now.  I learned that democracy does work, even if people use it to be truly truly mean to each other, sometimes just for sport.  I learned that I am part of a team, a sometimes invisible network of people who believe in what we're doing.  And while they may approach life with a completely different view of things, they still may support me if I let them.  And I need to let them.

I'm fortunate enough to have two more years of employment ahead of me, while living in a safe and gracious space in a truly remarkable town with nice people.  And I still believe in the work we're doing, and know I have the energy to look forward to considerable challenges ahead.

So, I took it as a blessing to have a 15 hour train ride ahead of me when I boarded in Alpine almost two weeks ago.  And although there was an electrical outlet right by my coach seat and I could have worked onboard, I didn't.  Instead I watched my region pass by.  Sections of dark burned land gave way to the dry--but still intact beauty--of the region.  And as we pulled further east, more and more green.

I just let the experience and the scenery wash over me...not thinking, not working, just being for a change.

I saw the sun setting over Lake Amistad, dogs frolicking in an orchard after dinner, a large family enjoying a barbecue under trees covered with balloons.  And since we were moving east, the delicate choreography of a shadows pulling day into night happened more quickly than if I'd been standing still.

When it came time for bed, I stretched across two seats, eager to get comfortable.  As I watched Texas go to sleep, I knew I could finally relax.  The year had been spent steeling myself against my own vulnerability, now I was releasing into it.  Willingly, easily I fell into it with relief.