The impassioned drive to blog tonight came at midnight. I think of all the times I lay awake with my mind swirling with questions, concerns and musings. I've said it before (on other platforms) and I'll say it again, I do some of my best work at night. It's a great and terrible thing. The work gets done, but the lack of sleep is not helpful to the epileptic mind. I digress.
The call. Ah, so many different contexts and way to perceive the meaning of "call." No, it wasn't a late night phone call. It wasn't a church-related calling. It was a calling within. I've, at various times in my life, been presented with opportunities to be reminded of my inner calling - times when my metaphorical cup is overflowing and other times, theres a drought. At this late hour water is boiling over (good thing it isn't a Solo Cup. Ha!).
Reflection
I'm pretty sure the seed of my "call," was planted pretty early in life. I had to grow up a bit faster than most, I could almost always be found helping someone. It was an implicit responsibility. At that time (and for years to come), it would stem from helping my Grandmothers, and later on, my Aunt & Dad. This isn't the time to relive all of it, but to recognize the seed. It grew as I was put into positions of leadership within the Church's Young Women program.
I was a fellowshipper, I encouraged others, I was that annoying, bouncing blondie who wouldn't take "no" for an answer. My best friend, who's been there for me for almost 15 years, can attest to that description. In fact that would pretty much sum up her recollection when she told me how she really felt about me when I first approached her, and the tens of times after that. I was the one to tell you that you were coming to the activity and there were brownies. Really. Who could say no to that?
I really do attribute some significant TLC toward the seed and the sprout, from what I learned in Church. As I said in my previous post, "Being an example is one of the main concepts in keeping me going. I've held onto the light within for as long as I can remember." It was, and it still is. Despite my severe imperfections, I still want to be a light that brings others to the calm of the storm. It sounds corny, and it is, but it's true.
There was the seed, the sprout, now comes the growth. Extracurricular activities. It was where I really felt confident and would accept and own any resulting labels. FCCLA? That was a given. Psych Club? Who knew?! NHS? You know it!!! Theres more, but I shan't get too carried away. VP of Service - that was my title with NHS in my senior year, in retrospect it seemed appropriate. Later on, a bad fall during the Homecoming parade would be one of the aforementioned opportunities to be reminded of my inner calling. That's a whole 'nother story, but was a reason for the fall (and a reason why I didn't break my neck).
Lemme back up a bit and look at career focuses. They'll ask you when you are in elementary what you want to be when you grow up. The answer was, "Nurse!" (Oh the irony! Stay tuned for upcoming posts!) That same answer would reoccur up through about 9th or 10th grade. I would soon find out about the types of college classes needed in order to attain nursehood... I was intimidated. I would soon find a significant interest in ASL Interpreting. So, nursing was out and signing was in. Long story short, I fell in love with, not only the language, but the community. At that time, my motive was to help those who couldn't hear. Oh, how I was wrong. Not wrong about interpreting - that's still in my sights - wrong about my motives.
Growing taller (the metaphorical plant, not me, I stopped at 5'1"). In my first few semesters of college, the intent was to be there to learn how to help others. Then, I was given a proverbial slap in the face. Impassioned professors would inform me and guide me on so many different topics. Sometimes these lectures would rip me inside and made me question what I was doing and what I really wanted out of life. What I gained from those growing pains would, most prominently, be the importance of advocacy, equality, and no pity.
Lemme 'splain, no there is too much, lemme sum up. When my objective was to help d/Deaf people, that was inappropriate. Truly. I would learn that Interpreters are not there to help - they are there to be facilitators and be a part of the provisions toward equal opportunities. "Helping," was hinderance and passively stigmatizing as it would be the result of pity. That train wasn't going any further down the track, for a switch-track was in place. I, as my own conductor, would see that the train roll it's way down the adjacent track. (Sheesh, I'm mixing metaphors here, I'll get back to the plant.) The rain fell and the sun would soon shine as I was finally able to pull out the weeds to let the inner calling become a flower.
The flower. From 2009 to 2010 I would be one of four Youth Ambassadors in my hometown. My platform started off as an emphasis and awareness for CTE programs in middle schools and high schools. It's an important discussion, but it didn't take off the way I'd hoped. I opted to change my platform, in fall of 2009, to Epilepsy Awareness. Why? I found the Epilepsy Association of Utah. I found my people - the nourishing garden and gardeners. The community of people who accepted me and let me ask questions, let me cry when I was struggling and gave me opportunities to find solidarity; to find ways to break down some of walls of my insecurities. That conclusion - about my people - wouldn't come until sometime around 2013, but even at that time, I knew it was the beginning of something great.
The blossom. After notable academic presentations and conference addresses, I would graduate in 2013 and then be hired as CAO/Executive Director of the Association. I had seen so many things in the 5 years I was involved, up to that point: Volunteer work, Camp, program development, the beginnings of the organizations expansion efforts and more. As the roots of this plant grew deeper, so would my determination to empower others. I wanted to see the soil become more fertile than before. Gardeners in tow, I saw the potential of the already present seeds, sprouts and the beginning of blossoms around me.
Flourish. This isn't over. It won't be over for a while - maybe even ever. With pruning, overwhelming rainstorms and chilling challenges this plant continues to grow.
Let's jump into the fire, where my motive, my passion, my calling wasn't just kindled, but has begun to burn faster than ever before.
Current
Now were back to the presumed mug of water, still boiling tonight from the high pressured tea kettle.
Although ice cream had been helpful earlier in the evening, tonight, there was a moment when all self-pity and physical/emotional pain of the day was gone in a second. Seriously. It was all gone when I saw a young lady put herself out there to share her experience. I cried. It was a deep and soulful cry. Tears of sorrow at the injustice in the way she and other students with epilepsy are treated. They were silent tears that burned - they burned because gasoline was thrown onto the the flames and the water started bubbling.
It's a topic deserving of a post to itself. (Not to mention the length of this post. Ha!) So, with that, I suggest you hang tight, roast some s'mores, sneak an extra piece of chocolate and get ready for a scary story in the dark of the night.
---
Midnight Comes Calling - Part 2: Fire and Water
The call. Ah, so many different contexts and way to perceive the meaning of "call." No, it wasn't a late night phone call. It wasn't a church-related calling. It was a calling within. I've, at various times in my life, been presented with opportunities to be reminded of my inner calling - times when my metaphorical cup is overflowing and other times, theres a drought. At this late hour water is boiling over (good thing it isn't a Solo Cup. Ha!).
Reflection
I'm pretty sure the seed of my "call," was planted pretty early in life. I had to grow up a bit faster than most, I could almost always be found helping someone. It was an implicit responsibility. At that time (and for years to come), it would stem from helping my Grandmothers, and later on, my Aunt & Dad. This isn't the time to relive all of it, but to recognize the seed. It grew as I was put into positions of leadership within the Church's Young Women program.
I was a fellowshipper, I encouraged others, I was that annoying, bouncing blondie who wouldn't take "no" for an answer. My best friend, who's been there for me for almost 15 years, can attest to that description. In fact that would pretty much sum up her recollection when she told me how she really felt about me when I first approached her, and the tens of times after that. I was the one to tell you that you were coming to the activity and there were brownies. Really. Who could say no to that?
I really do attribute some significant TLC toward the seed and the sprout, from what I learned in Church. As I said in my previous post, "Being an example is one of the main concepts in keeping me going. I've held onto the light within for as long as I can remember." It was, and it still is. Despite my severe imperfections, I still want to be a light that brings others to the calm of the storm. It sounds corny, and it is, but it's true.
There was the seed, the sprout, now comes the growth. Extracurricular activities. It was where I really felt confident and would accept and own any resulting labels. FCCLA? That was a given. Psych Club? Who knew?! NHS? You know it!!! Theres more, but I shan't get too carried away. VP of Service - that was my title with NHS in my senior year, in retrospect it seemed appropriate. Later on, a bad fall during the Homecoming parade would be one of the aforementioned opportunities to be reminded of my inner calling. That's a whole 'nother story, but was a reason for the fall (and a reason why I didn't break my neck).
Lemme back up a bit and look at career focuses. They'll ask you when you are in elementary what you want to be when you grow up. The answer was, "Nurse!" (Oh the irony! Stay tuned for upcoming posts!) That same answer would reoccur up through about 9th or 10th grade. I would soon find out about the types of college classes needed in order to attain nursehood... I was intimidated. I would soon find a significant interest in ASL Interpreting. So, nursing was out and signing was in. Long story short, I fell in love with, not only the language, but the community. At that time, my motive was to help those who couldn't hear. Oh, how I was wrong. Not wrong about interpreting - that's still in my sights - wrong about my motives.
Growing taller (the metaphorical plant, not me, I stopped at 5'1"). In my first few semesters of college, the intent was to be there to learn how to help others. Then, I was given a proverbial slap in the face. Impassioned professors would inform me and guide me on so many different topics. Sometimes these lectures would rip me inside and made me question what I was doing and what I really wanted out of life. What I gained from those growing pains would, most prominently, be the importance of advocacy, equality, and no pity.
Lemme 'splain, no there is too much, lemme sum up. When my objective was to help d/Deaf people, that was inappropriate. Truly. I would learn that Interpreters are not there to help - they are there to be facilitators and be a part of the provisions toward equal opportunities. "Helping," was hinderance and passively stigmatizing as it would be the result of pity. That train wasn't going any further down the track, for a switch-track was in place. I, as my own conductor, would see that the train roll it's way down the adjacent track. (Sheesh, I'm mixing metaphors here, I'll get back to the plant.) The rain fell and the sun would soon shine as I was finally able to pull out the weeds to let the inner calling become a flower.
The flower. From 2009 to 2010 I would be one of four Youth Ambassadors in my hometown. My platform started off as an emphasis and awareness for CTE programs in middle schools and high schools. It's an important discussion, but it didn't take off the way I'd hoped. I opted to change my platform, in fall of 2009, to Epilepsy Awareness. Why? I found the Epilepsy Association of Utah. I found my people - the nourishing garden and gardeners. The community of people who accepted me and let me ask questions, let me cry when I was struggling and gave me opportunities to find solidarity; to find ways to break down some of walls of my insecurities. That conclusion - about my people - wouldn't come until sometime around 2013, but even at that time, I knew it was the beginning of something great.
The blossom. After notable academic presentations and conference addresses, I would graduate in 2013 and then be hired as CAO/Executive Director of the Association. I had seen so many things in the 5 years I was involved, up to that point: Volunteer work, Camp, program development, the beginnings of the organizations expansion efforts and more. As the roots of this plant grew deeper, so would my determination to empower others. I wanted to see the soil become more fertile than before. Gardeners in tow, I saw the potential of the already present seeds, sprouts and the beginning of blossoms around me.
Flourish. This isn't over. It won't be over for a while - maybe even ever. With pruning, overwhelming rainstorms and chilling challenges this plant continues to grow.
Let's jump into the fire, where my motive, my passion, my calling wasn't just kindled, but has begun to burn faster than ever before.
Current
Now were back to the presumed mug of water, still boiling tonight from the high pressured tea kettle.
Although ice cream had been helpful earlier in the evening, tonight, there was a moment when all self-pity and physical/emotional pain of the day was gone in a second. Seriously. It was all gone when I saw a young lady put herself out there to share her experience. I cried. It was a deep and soulful cry. Tears of sorrow at the injustice in the way she and other students with epilepsy are treated. They were silent tears that burned - they burned because gasoline was thrown onto the the flames and the water started bubbling.
It's a topic deserving of a post to itself. (Not to mention the length of this post. Ha!) So, with that, I suggest you hang tight, roast some s'mores, sneak an extra piece of chocolate and get ready for a scary story in the dark of the night.
---
Midnight Comes Calling - Part 2: Fire and Water
