This week I had an opportunity to speak about my journey with two different colleague groups. The dialogue stretched me, encouraged me, enlivened me. Some parts of my life story that have seemed quite messy and painful have begun to take on the aura of rich, organic material wrought with possibility. God is at work.
At one point, in one of my conversations there was a huge pause — an opportunity to decide if I would speak my truth with this fine, holy group of men or brush over it.
It would have been easy to do the latter. It would have been expeditious. Nobody would have challenged me in doing so. And quite possibly the opportunity that had presented itself would have been forgotten by my colleagues before too much time passed.
Taking advantage of the “pause,” I closed my eyes and focused, breathing deeply as I shared my experience of being a lone woman in a sea of men. Granted, the camaraderie had been amazing. But I had paid a price each time I brushed things over.
When I spoke my truth calmly, my weariness began to dissipate. Strength rose up in its place.
I remember reading somewhere that “the only thing more frightening than speaking your truth is not speaking it.”