The “Test” in Testimony

The “Test” in Testimony

She sat in the class at the front. She really had no real need to be there. She wasn’t looking to re-enter the workforce. A domestic violence incident had left her body broken and unable to work. At first, I believed that she was an older woman, somewhat hunched over and needing assistance from a walker that was loaded up with bags and an assortment of decor pieces. At second look, her amber eyes had this joy to them that was undeniable. Her face was soft, and the facial lines I had expected to see didn’t exist.

I began speaking. As I shared my story, the one that carried shame for me for years, the one that almost broke my spirit, she locked eyes with me.

My journey to the women’s shelter to teach a class about communication was a curve ball that was thrown at me. I had no idea that my practice would lead me to a group of women who were truly in a place of needing guidance and inspiration. I had jumped at the opportunity.

I began my lecture series with my story. I believe that sharing our own stories about overcoming adversity truly helps others see that there are opportunities that come to us to elevate our lives, even when we don’t truly believe that change is possible. That if we show up as our authentic self, the people that need to see us, do.

Nancy came to every class. She sat in the front row and listened intently to everything I said. Occasionally there was an “amen” or a deep “yesssss” from her. We continued to lock eyes throughout the hours that passed.

I sat with her after class each night and talked. We talked about her journey. We talked about her life. It was a tragic one, full of sadness and loss. But what I found to be the most powerful thing about our conversations was that she emitted this energy. She was above the drama. She said, “child, your painful journey wasn’t for you. It’s the ‘test’ in testimony. It’s there to inspire others. To help others. To guide others. It’s not about you.”

I laughed at this. Not from mockery, but from a deeper understanding that my core belief was that it was never about me. We talked about life, about past decisions that we made that we regretted making and how looking back, we would have never been able to learn anything about ourselves. How we could put ego aside and live from our hearts. Our younger selves had struggled to put their mark on the world, and at those times, we had thought we failed. Full circle, we won. We were able to have hard conversations with other women who were struggling with the same heartbreak and brokenness. To use the lessons that we learned created worth, because we were the testimony to the fact that we can rise above and still shine.

This woman empowered me — inspired me — to trust my journey. She offered guidance and love in a place that could have been hopeless and dark. I watched her sit with people at dinner and sing to them. She spoke of her connection with her higher power. She engaged with women at her table and offered her gift. A warm hand on a shoulder, or a loving one on one with who was beside her, bringing her light to anyone who chose to engage. They walked away lighter and brighter.

My last evening there, she hugged me. Not the kind of quick “obligatory” hug, but one of those hugs you feel that you needed. I left that night with this lesson. When you realize that your life isn’t about you, when you look at the struggles and adversity and you begin to realize that as you walk down your path, that all these things happen to us to learn how to overcome — just to be able to take someone else’s hand and pick them up, and say “let me show you how I did it.”

That changes everything.