Real Life Heroes Introduction

Audacity and tenacity go hand-in-hand (and I don’t just say that because they sound good together). If there was ever a woman who was both audacious and tenacious, it was Clara Barton.

Audacious: Recklessly bold in defiance of convention, propriety, law, or the like. [source]

Tenacious: Pertinacious, persistent, stubborn, or obstinate. [source]

I first read her story in Do Hard Things. As a teen, she devoted herself to nursing her brother, who was recovering from a severe injury, back to health. She went on to teach, serve as a nurse in the Civil War, and start the American Red Cross.

Clara’s tenacity and audacity were displayed early in her teaching job. Fighting for her place in a world dominated by men, she started New Jersey’s first public school, turning societal expectations upside down and attracting 200 students in her first year.

Officials were so impressed that they built a larger school and then hired a man to lead the school Clara started. She resigned and moved to a government position instead. The Civil War began, and Clara did everything she could to assist her country.

After learning of the lack of medical attention on the battlefield, Clara began gathering supplies. She spent a year petitioning the government to allow her to serve the wounded and dying.

Her audacity meant that she would be one of the first women nurses on the battlefield.

Her tenacity caused government leaders to cave.

While on the battlefield, she continued to be tenacious. She brought supplies and relief to doctors and soldiers alike. She refused to give up, even with bullets flying around her. Clara’s willingness to venture into the unusual and unsafe allowed her to change lives.

That’s what it takes to be a hero. We must be audacious, not settling for, “Well, that’s how we’ve always done it.” We must take risks and push for the unconventional. And we must be tenacious. We cannot afford to give up.

Audacity and tenacity are hard because they often go unnoticed. But they’re what change lives. They give us permission to speak up and make our voice credible. We can’t be heroes without them.

For more on Clara Barton:

Clara Barton Birthplace Museum
American Red Cross: Founder Clara Barton
Clara Barton, Civil War Nurse

In a movement, every voice matters.

Quiet voices, loud voices, large voices, and small voices. Without every one of those voices, the movement would cease to exist.

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about my year in the dress lately (for that book). But it’s about so much more than me and that black dress and that one year. My story is part of a bigger story.

I am no lone ranger.
I am simply one voice in the movement.

But in a movement, every voice matters. And when all those voices stand up to shout the same thing, the world listens.

They have no choice but to listen.

And this is what it can look like:

[Video: END IT Movement :: Millions Have Heard]

We’ll jump into the Real Life Heroes series next week. For today, enjoy.

I looked at the counter and sighed. I knew why that container of refried beans was there. I’d put away all the other food and loaded every other dish into the dishwasher. This container was all that was left, and frankly, I didn’t want to deal with it.

It’d been a busy few days, so it got left on the counter when no one had the time to toss the beans that were inside. I seriously thought about ignoring them. And when my parents got home, I’d just tell them that I didn’t have the courage to handle it.

I caught myself.

Seriously?

I didn’t have the courage?

The courage to face a container of spoiled beans?

What a wimp.

So I did it. (Negative self-talk and calling myself a wimp can be incredibly motivating sometimes.) I grabbed two grocery bags from the laundry room and took the container outside to the trash can.

I doubled up the bags and put them over my hand like a glove, held my breath, and opened the container. In went my hand (covered with grocery bags) and out came the beans. I tied the bag and quickly tossed it.

Unfortunately, by then I had to breathe again. And it smelled just as nasty as I thought it would. I dashed inside with the container, rinsed it out, and the smell subsided. It was over.

And really, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.

It didn’t take that much courage, either.

Funny how that works. Once I stopped thinking about it and actually did something, it was simpler than I’d made it out to be. I find that to be true in a lot of life, especially when I get paralyzed by big problems and injustices.

It’s not as complicated as I think, and it doesn’t take that much courage. It just takes action.

Here’s to facing the beans this week.

After last week’s post on How to Change the World, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. (That’s a dangerous thing for me to do.) And I’m thinking we should keep talking about just that: changing the world.

Changing the world has a lot less to do with our grand ideas and amazing plans and a lot more to do with just showing up and loving people.

That’s what heroes do. They show up on time, and they don’t go away. They’re in it for the long haul. Not because it’s fashionable, but because it’s right.

Easier said than done.

I want to be that kind of hero. I want to be someone who shows up and sticks around and loves people tenaciously. But what does that mean, really? Who lives like that? And how do they go about it?

That’s what I want to explore this summer. Real Life Heroes and the things that make them who they are.

People like William Wilberforce.
And Harriet Tubman.
And Martin Luther King Jr.
And maybe even a few we’ve never heard of.
People who showed up and stayed for the long haul.

I can’t speak for you, but I think they have a few things they could teach me. So for (at least) June, July, and most of August, Thursdays will focus on Real Life Heroes.

I’ll still be posting twice a week, but Monday posts will be about the dress, the book, the anti-trafficking movement, and anything else that comes up. Thursdays will be all about changing the world.

We can change the world, but only if we’re willing to let go of us and our dreams and our wants and our needs. So let’s dive into this. Let’s learn what it takes, and then let’s do it. Together.

I’ve been thinking a lot about changing the world. Partially because I believe we can, but also because I think we’ve got it wrong.

It’s easy to get caught up in big projects and grandiose plans. After all, bigger is better, right? So we work to create as big of an impact as we can as publicly as we can around whatever cause or issue we feel most passionate about.

And I’m all there. (Remember that whole dress-for-a-year thing?)

But there has to be more to it than that. We can’t afford to get so focused on “changing the world” that we forget about the very people we want to touch. They’re not a cause or an issue or a campaign. They’re people.

Real life, made-in-the-image-of-God people.

So this lyric from Jill Phillips has been rattling around in my head and my heart for a couple weeks:

You don’t have to save the world, all that hero talk is only superficial stuff.
If you want to change the world, what you’ve got to do is show up, just show up.

And I think about the people who have changed my life. People who are there. Laughter and tears, they’re there. Long conversations, they’re there. The good, the bad, and the ugly, they’re (amazingly) still there. In my life, they’re a love that doesn’t go away. And I’m better because of them.

Gary Haugen (from IJM) talked about that at The Justice Conference (listen here). Here’s the thing: the work of justice isn’t easy or glamorous. It’s difficult and long and requires a love that will not go away. The only way we’ll ever make a difference is by to showing up and not walking away when it gets hard.

And I’m reminded of something else he said:

When our grandchildren ask us where we were when the voiceless and vulnerable of our era needed leaders of compassion and purpose, I hope we can say that we showed up, and that we showed up on time.

Our job isn’t to swoop in and save. They’re not our project or our cause. Our job is to show up. To show up now, on time. To walk alongside. The road is long and hard and weary, but it is worth it. And it is how we change the world.

Show Up by Jill Phillips