So that’s me and Brené Brown. I’m looking pretty happy, right? I was, very tired and very excited! It had been one of the most intensive weeks of my life and felt like the beginning of a whole, new something.

It was February 2015 - the week of Valentine’s Day, not insignificant - and we were at Camp Allen in Navasota, Texas. A place that this New Yorker never in a million years dreamed she’d find herself (which is true of almost every place this New Yorker has lived). The Episcopal Diocese of Texas had sponsored a Daring Way conference for clergy. The first step in becoming a facilitator in her work.

But let me back up and tell you why I was there.

In February of 2014 my (then) husband moved out. A few months prior we had decided to separate and knew we’d be getting divorced. We’d been married almost 20 years and our daughter was eight. Getting to that point was a long slog to say the least but a story for a different time. In hindsight, that was the first death of a year that was overflowing with it.

In May 2014 my sister ended her life. Again, a story for a different time. But it sucked, what else can I say? It sucked how she died, it sucked that she died, it sucked having to deal with being separated and navigating how you do a funeral in that situation. It sucked not knowing how to navigate all of the messiness that comes after death. It sucked because I thought I was supposed to know.

The next month, a member of my church who I worked closely with tragically died while on vacation. I spent a day with the family at the hospital as he was taken off life support. Yes, another story for a different time. Afterwards, I sat in my car and sobbed beyond measure wondering when death would please get the fuck out of my life!

July. The man who was technically still my father-in-law, was diagnosed with throat cancer. Two months later, he died. More grief. More trying to navigate almost-former family relationships and funerals and booking hotel rooms when you used to just stay in their house.

Every morning I read excerpts of a book, “When Things Fall Apart” by Pema Chodron. When everything is falling apart it is wise to read wise people who are real, who get it, no bullshit.

October. A young father in the congregation ended his life. Another tragedy. It was devastating for his family, his wife and children. This is going to sound selfish, but it’s honest and true: I could not believe God would have me pastor a family and preach to a gathered community about suicide when I was still so mired in muck over my sister.

In between all the deaths that felt like mountains to climb over, were the hills of typical funerals and Sunday services. In between those were an unusual amount of weddings in my church where I declined to preach (until eventually I could).

Throughout, were the daily struggles of adapting to my new parental reality of sharing custody and preparing for divorce. There was just, a lot, and most of it sucked.

I’m not entirely sure how I did my job, but I did. I was always exhausted. I thought entering a convent would be my next best move.

Practically every day I had a call with one of my closest friends. Every week, with my therapist. Those were my true lifelines. Leaning on people in a way I had never done before.

Then November 2014, late at night, I received an email inviting clergy to Texas for this Daring Way conference. I had listened to Brené Brown’s interview with Krista Tippet on vulnerability multiple times, even downloading the unedited version so I could take in every single word. Vulnerable? Yes, I was.

I read the email, clicked the link, and signed up! I didn’t even check my calendar.

The smile in that photo was a breakthrough, the day before had been filled with tears. Life is always becoming - a back and forth between tears and smiles, hellos and goodbyes, grief and joy, which in so many ways is what The Daring WayTM is all about.