Be kind.
MaryBeth Chapman wrote a book "Choosing to See" in the aftermath of losing one of her daughters in a tragic accident. The book is phenomenal and I highly recommend it to anyone who hasn't read it yet. After all, since we are all home, might as well read a good book.
The title of that tome has probably been more helpful to my mental and emotional health than numerous therapy sessions, as an ongoing reminder of my ability to take control and choose what I see. As someone who has struggled with anxiety and depression for much of my adult life, I don't intend to preach a quick fix for all circumstances. I for one can tell you that in my deepest days of depression, opening my eyes may be as much as I could "choose" to do. Acknowledging there was a greater reality to the overwhelming darkness I was experiencing was nothing short of a miracle. I couldn't choose to "get over it", "be happy", "count my blessings" or any other pithy advice thrown my way from people with somewhat good intentions but no idea of what depression is all about.
However, in a better mental space, I was able to start internalizing this idea that our filter by which we saw the world was very much in our control. When you are in the bottom of a pit, the pit truly is surrounding you on all sides and the light is very far away. But if you've managed to climb out of the pit, you begin to see other things that have been present all along - just blocked from your field of view. People outside the pit kept telling you they were there - but now you can see them for yourself - if you choose to look.
These last few months have given me so many opportunities to choose to see. But more than that, I am overwhelmed by those who have chosen to see my daughter as more than a DOC number...more than her sentencing....more than her corrections uniform. Despite having my only daughter sent to a juvenile maximum security facility at 13 years of age in the midst of the greatest pandemic of over 100 years, I am overwhelmed by the perpetual gentleness and kindness from those in the very darkest places of society.
From the county sheriff who cried as she put cuffs on Bunny in our home, to the personnel at the county jail, the Johnson County Detention Center, and now the Department of Corrections; these individuals extend kindness to us as we learn this new system. They speak in soft tones and patiently explain every process (which is continually changing thanks to COVID-19), answering any questions I have. They tell me how sweet Bunny - how smart she is - how well she is doing. They encourage me, telling me they are looking out for her in my absence. That they want the best for her.
They are executing the law. They are following the procedures for incarceration. But they are doing it with kindness. With patience. With grace. Despite the tragic situation we face, they have chosen to see my daughter for more than her crime. And they see me, as her mom, longing to know that someone is taking care of her when I cannot.
I'm not in the pit I once was...but I'm pretty far from those mountain top views - it's more a valley of rolling hills with partly cloud skies. But the more I experience people seeing Bunny for her whole self, the more sun that peaks through.
They choose to see her.
I choose to see Him.
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