Resilience: confirming identity through the scratches, bites and blues.

As I reflected on resilience and identity, I immediately began to think of a memory from what now seems like a long time ago. It is meant to provide a wee window into how my leadership approach became shaped into a desire for truth in all things. Maybe I am that PolyAnna sometimes referred to. And maybe, just maybe, we need more PolyAnna's to provide hope in this world. So, here goes my wee memory:

She walked into the board room, a mere twenty something, everyone around her was grey, in a black, navy or grey suit, high heels or shiny blacks, tied to their notebooks; cell phones, laptops, as iPads weren’t around then. She, the youngest of four, the mouthy one, unruly hair that always fell horribly to the right-side of her forehead due to an out-of-control cowl-lick, dirty jean shorts, and flip flops, unbrushed teeth (but who was counting the days), a little tank hovering over a skinny torso with ribs seen through, and tiny stains retaining memories of great hot dogs, hamburgers, there was probably some Tang on there too. It’s funny because when that young girl walked into that boardroom, she instantly became that nine year-old girl again. She didn’t belong here, with these people. This group was made up of very distinguished academics, presidents, vice presidents; they were the seventh generation Montreal family members, the politically connected, the brightest and the wisest from their regions. How did she end up here?

It’s interesting when you ponder one’s experiences and memories that come flooding in when describing identity. Who am I? Who was I that day? At what point did I become comfortable in my own skin? I think for me, my identity was summed up through a paper I wrote when completing a diversity class as part of my M.Ed. I can’t help think of my early days on the streets of the inner city and what a tough little kid I had become. My friends were from low-income families, representing a multitude of cultures, with the only common denominator, our friendship. We ran the streets all hours of the day, no-one called us in til dark, we ate little, fought a lot, stole a bit from the stores, and threw tomatoes at the rich Italians driving by in their shiny cars. It wasn’t until we moved to my parents’ small, rural hometown in Nova Scotia that I began to see myself as that little poor kid from the other side of the tracks. But it was the seventies, I had my six and half inch Italian leather shoes and gauchos, and no one was going to stop this kid.

I was a tough rascal but gifted with an experience that I no longer frown upon. A tomboy with a mission and a tough exterior to crack. Didn’t let anyone in, kept hearts at bay, and started a cazillion battles that my older sister had to end – and she did. I was embarrassed for almost my entire life by how little my parents had. I truly was, and can be honest about this now. We practically lived on the poverty line. I wanted everything. I went from that tomboy to a pre-teen ordering from the Sears catalogue who never told her parents until it arrived and they answered the phone and to their own embarrassment had to pay for it. Such a brat. Who was that girl?

One of my best friends has the most amazing brilliant-full-of-life daughter. When she was little, she was a nightmare and we all knew it, talked about it, and openly laughed with a few winks and eyebrow lifts over many glasses of wine while sharing tales about her. She was loud, vivacious, hilarious, with a head full of glorious red hair that only a mother could love! I loved her then and dearly love her now. Back then, when we would be dealing with a huge tantrum (or Linda Blair episode as we like to call them), on the drive to school, I would say to whoever was sitting next to me “ She’s going to be an amazing woman when she grows up. We just have to remember that. She’s a woman on a mission. She knows what she wants, what she’ll put up with, what she won’t, and what is needed to get the job done. She’s just misunderstood… and maybe, just maybe those sugars of hers are at an all-time low”! We judge children too harshly expecting them to conform to the boxes and lives we create. With some tenderness and re-directing, she is already great. I always knew that she was a good kid, with a strong heart and will. That the character that she ‘shared’ with us then, well, I believe that’s the hope we have for our daughters; that they will be fearless, strong, courageous woman, mothers, employees, leaders. We need women with strength, fortitude, courage, love, and wisdom.

Maybe you will only ever have that fantastic work experience once in your life… maybe it will be just like that one love of your life. I’m not so sure. But I believe that we were made to be awesome – that God has provided the gifts; we just need to open the box, to believe, in ourselves, our potential, in others, and most importantly, in Him. To surrender ourselves to His holy will for our lives, in all that we do, that we are meant to go out into this world to work with others. It isn’t going to be easy, the road less travelled now has a whole new meaning for me and I now have the confidence to actually see this less travelled road as a gift. I wasn’t the perfect kid, or the best university student, but I strive(d) to be a good mom, wife, daughter, sister, friend, and colleague. I have messed up too many times and have taken others down with me. I have treated others poorly for my own selfish gain, I have lied, I have hurt others, but that was many, many years ago and that isn’t who I am today. It genuinely hurts my heart too much. I desire from the bottom of my heart to be a women of integrity; to walk the path of truth, honesty, and love, to be the best that I can be so that others can grow around me.

I desire to be humble; full of humility as Blessed Mother Theresa shared,

“If you are humble, nothing will touch you, neither praise or disgrace, because you know what you are”.

I do not need to feel shame, or fear, or disgrace. I am loved. My former pastor used to say the follwing to us all of the time:

“You are known. You are loved. You are Redeemed”. These days, that is all I need to know so that I can truly love others until they explode by being loved.

Take care of yourselves.

sharon