By Stephanie Linehan
I grew up just a short hop, skip, and jump from the Kinnickinnic River. As a child it was a source of play, fun, imagination, and memory-making. Neighborhood friends and my family would hike, build forts, and enjoy nature for hours in the woods and by the river. Looking back, it seemed so typical and natural for everyone to have a crick or river practically in their backyard. I think I took it for granted.
Fast-forward into adulthood. Life came full circle. It warms my heart. My own little family and I now live just a hop, skip, and jump from the Kinnickinnic River once again, just outside of town. The river is still a source of fun as we kayak and hike nearby. It has also become a source of rejuvenation and a place for reflection. We have learned the hard way; however, that water is both beautiful and powerful. And as peaceful as water is, it always wins. You have to let it.
In July 2015, our township received what was called ‘the 100 year flood.’ In the middle of that one July night, I could hear water coming into the basement. It was leaking through our kids’ egress windows. My husband thought to go out with a 5-gallon bucket to empty their window wells. With flashlight in tow, he scanned our yard. The water was all the way up to the house. Those window wells were like aquariums. Our house was practically an island.
Our basement filled up. We had ten inches of standing water before we were finally able to pump it out and the water outside receded. Our kids slept upstairs for almost six months while we cleaned and renovated. Needless to say, it was traumatic. After a few months of therapy, I happened to walk down the stairs like usual. But this time, it was different. It was like the walls were talking to me. You know those cartoon faces you see on trees? Like that. “We tried our best, Steph. We tried to keep the water from coming in. We really tried not to let you down” (cue in KT Tunstall’s song ‘Suddenly I See’). All of a sudden, I felt comfort instead of distress.
Brene Brown writes in her book Dare to Lead, “We must be guardians of space that allows students to breathe and be curious and explore the world and be who they are without suffocation.” The walls of my basement were holding up our house. Holding space and trying not to let us down. This is what I want to be for people, especially teachers. Hold the walls back as to make sure nothing more comes at them. Hold space for them to exhale. Let down. And just be.
Rest. And then go to the water. Drink the water. Submerge yourself in the water. Touch the water. Look at the water. Then go back to sleep. Repeat as necessary until healing occurs.
~ Elizabeth Gilbert
I am afraid that if I open myself I will not stop pouring. (Why do I fear becoming a river? What mountain gave me such shame?) ~ Jamie Oliveira, Erosion.
Comments