Gindi Vincent

The Dish on Career, Fashion, Faith, and Family

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Reentry

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Depending on where you live, you may or may not be going through what we are here in Houston.

We are open for business. That means reentry for some of us, in some capacity.

This opening up has come with some scary statistics.  More than just the escalating COVID-19 case numbers, the hospital beds and ICU occupancy numbers are up.  Way up (as of yesterday, each day for the past week has set a new one-day high). 

Because of this dichotomy, I’ve got friends in my circle who have responded in a number of ways. 

FROM: Embrace the openness, do as much as they can, and don’t live in fear.

TO: Completely terrified of the dangers the virus can wreak and the escalating numbers so they are nearly agoraphobic, unable to have social interaction even with family members outside their home. 

And then everything in between. 

We’re in between.  (And where ever you land, I feel you. This is all brutally hard to navigate.)

The kids have been fortunate since we have a family farm and ranch that they have been able to get out of the house and ride horses or work cows or bail hay in very remote locations. 

But we have begun reengaging.  The slow process of reentry.

A week ago, we spent the weekend with our friends at the lake.  It was wonderful to visit a new area of Texas and the kids absolutely adored tubing. 

We ate out at a restaurant to celebrate 4th grade graduation.

We’re doing more with friends outdoors – swimming, backyard drinks, biking, etc. 

I went to one of my dearest friend’s house in Fort Worth and hung out with her crew in the backyard for two days.

I took little bit to run a couple of errands with me this weekend, in our masks, her first outings to stores since pre-Spring Break. 

I’m far more comfortable doing things outside so we maximize those activities (of course with 100% humidity and feels-like numbers topping 100, it’s getting tricky). 

Next week, I go back to the office full time.  A fact over which I’m really sad. 

But as I’ve said previously, there’s a lot from our time in quarantine I want to keep. 

We’re all reading so much (I’ll talk books and cooking tomorrow!).  I can’t keep the baby and me in books (I really need to move to Kindle, because our house has stacks of them everywhere).  We’re less scheduled.  We have interesting conversations about topics that range from challenging to silly. 

We have gotten a ton of work done on our backyard remodel.  The deck and corner trees are gone, the flagstone is laid, the pergola has been ripped out, and the turtles have been relocated back to Louisiana (more on this later).

Things will not be “normal” for a very long time, I believe. 

My guess is things might not even look “more normal” until next summer. 

So this gives us the opportunity to rethink American life. 

This gives us a chance to evaluate how we can give back more authentically and connect more meaningfully.  How we can extract value from our time instead of wasting it on television or technology. 

We’re still in the reentry phase.  And I’m in no hurry. 

I’m willing to let this move forward at a pace that both protects the most vulnerable in our community and allows our family and our church and our companies and our communities to set important guardrails.  Guardrails which I hope will serve our children well.  Ones to give them a pace and lifestyle that is less rushed and more meaningful. 

Praying for your reentry, and for all of us, as we navigate the unknown.

Hard Conversations: Racial Injustice

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2020 has been a hard year.  But this weekend hit me particularly hard. 

In my house, we have been having some hard conversations.  Discussing heartbreaking topics, without having any answers.  I’ve been torn about writing.  Wanting to share our hearts and our confusion with this community, but also struggling to know what to say. 

So today, I decided to write.  There are many others who will write more eloquently and with better strategies than me.  Still, on balance, more voices, even halting imperfect ones, are better. 

Today, I will share some of the conversations I have been having with the kids about the death of George Floyd and racial injustice in America.

While at a dear friend’s with little bit this weekend, she saw a news clip of Nashville on fire.  It started our conversation about the protests and the basis for them. 

First, I showed her a picture of George Floyd.  Then I showed her a pictured of Mr. Floyd with a police officer’s knee on his neck and I explained what happened.  Eight minutes and 46 seconds.  “I can’t breathe.”  Calling for his mama.  Then I opened Facebook and I showed her pictures of my friends standing alongside their handsome black sons.  And we talked about how scared they must be.  All the time. 

We talked about prejudice that people hold.  Some police officers, but some not.  Some just regular people, including us.  How people make a decision about someone because of the way they look on the outside. 

We talked about leadership and how some officials are trying to start a conversation of understanding between people in their communities, while other leaders are sowing even more division and terror.  We talked about some of them by name.  It was not a political conversation.  It was a human conversation. 

She prayed.  She prayed specifically that “police officers would not think that black people are dangerous,” and she prayed for mothers who were worried and she prayed for leaders to lead better and she prayed for everyone who has suffered for years who were lamenting on the streets of our American cities. 

When we returned home and the boys came back for the ranch, then we had more conversations. 

This time, I sat in the boys room with all three of them. 

Little bit explained what she understood and expressed her outrage.  She said she wanted to be President because she wanted to say things to people who were scared and worried and she wanted African Americans to be treated better. 

The boys had more questions.  We talked about their black and brown friends, naming all the people we know who must be so angry and sad and scared.  I asked them how could it be that the eldest could walk through our neighborhood in a black hoodie every day and never worry, but if his friend was walking in those same clothes on those same streets, then his friend might get reported to police or stopped, or worse, hurt. 

They don’t move immediately to empathy like she did, they move to action.  What can we DO? 

If you present them with a problem, then they want an solution. 

I explained we can’t change other people’s hearts but we can do some things.  We can support those who seek to lead our communities who want to hold people accountable and ensure people of all colors are treated fairly.  We talked about how they could be an advocate, and what that means.  I read from my friend Karen’s post who reminded us, “We can’t wait for police reform entirely because that takes time… we need to be heard and seen when we see black or brown people being questioned by the police. Just stay close, your presence might make the difference.”  We talked about what they could have done if they were there on that street.  How do you speak out? 

We talked about how we have all judged someone based on their shape or size or color or accent. 

And then we prayed.  Because in light of all this heaviness, what is there except to cry out to God?

We prayed for the family of George Floyd.  We prayed for our friends who have been singled out and hurt or bullied or treated unfairly because of the color of their skin.  We prayed for forgiveness for where we have assumed or judged or not seen others as God sees them, His unique creation.  We prayed for our world and our country and our city. 

We will continue to pray. 

We will continue to listen. 

We will speak out.

And I will run my daughter’s campaign, when she is old enough to run for office and add her clarion voice to the chorus demanding change.

I have been reading so much over the past few days, and here are a few excerpts that struck me. 

This one from inCourage:

We need to feel the pain of lives lost to the inhumanity of racism.  We need to feel the tension of how our privilege can distances us from wanting to feel the pain. We need to lean into the fire and know the flame with our sisters. We need to do the hard work of listening, of learning, of loving well. We are many parts of One Body, connected in and by and for Christ. Our hearts are on fire, and as on Pentecost, we need to let them burn so that we may be filled with the Holy Spirit and empowered by Him to come together as many parts of one body.  Romans 12:4-5: Just as our bodies have many parts and each part has a special function, so it is with Christ’s body. We are many parts of one body, and we all belong to each other.

This one from Esau McCaulley:

The first is to recognize that the problem is not just out there.  It’s in our hearts. The problem isn’t just that there are racists in the world. The problem is that we all live in rebellion against God and his will for us. The gospel demands a decision from each of us about our own sins. If Jesus had a theme for his ministry it is repent for the kingdom of heaven is at hand… We do have a message for a city and a world on fire. There is a God who loves you and died that you might know him.  This love is sufficient to gather the divided peoples of the world when all the politicians and philosophers fail. There is a God of justice who sees and acts on behalf of the beleaguered peoples of the world, people like George Floyd.

From my dear friend and prayer partner and active social justice advocate:

I believe a revival and Awakening is coming, greater than ever before. Yet those have always started with laying down one’s own pride and understanding, to travail in prayer. They have begun because what is impossible for us is only possible with God. It’s going to take a level of sacrifice never before yet seen.
‘Thou Christ of burning, cleansing flame, Thy blood-bought gift today we claim, Look down and see this waiting host, We want another Pentecost, Send the Fire.’ [From hymn, Lord Send the Fire]

On the Day I Went Back to the Office

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Today, I drove to my office.

The last time I was here was March 13th. The Friday before our Spring Break trip.

Things were already quite uncertain then. But I had no idea what would come. Or for how long.

It’s Wednesday, May 20th. It’s been over 2 months.

I can’t come back every day yet. There’s still no one to watch the kids – really nowhere to put our country’s children (safely). Our school will end today. So will my two month’s tenure as a homeschool teacher.

Yesterday, while thinking about coming in, I was excited. As a corporate lawyer, I need time and quiet to think through legal issues and write coherent documents. While I actually enjoyed my time working from home (breakfast with my kids for the first time in six years, no long commute, etc.), it was very hard to get quiet time for deep thought.

But this morning, I nearly cried on the way in.

I wasn’t ready.

Today was their last day of remote learning. I wasn’t there to help them get on their Zoom calls and photograph their math assignments and lead a devotional over a late breakfast.

Plus there is general anxiety over coming back to a workplace when cases in our state and county are most definitely on the rise, as are hospitalizations. One friend wrote on social media recently, it’s like we just gave up on containing the virus.

In writing a friend this morning, she responded with this:
I am so excited to return to the office. I am so nervous to return to the office.
I am so happy to eat at all the restaurants and go all the places. But then I don’t understand why we can’t just sit here and play family games.
I want my son’s baseball to start so he can see his friends. But then I don’t want baseball to start.
I am so excited for this to end. I desperately don’t want this to end.
I am all the feels. All the relaxed. All the overwhelmed.

I couldn’t have written that any better.

There is still so much unknown.

And while I love this quiet environment and these big double computer screens to edit my documents, I miss my little corner at the kitchen table with kids fighting over Rip Stiks.

I don’t want to go back to life like it was.

We won’t. We can’t. At least not for a long time.

But during this time, in the in between, when there is some normal and some still wildly abnormal, how do we sift out what is really important and implement changes that stay with us.

There’s so much hard ahead.

But there’s so much good in what we’ve uncovered during this season.

28 Days: Day 29, The Finale

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Well, I did it.

Barely.

And even though it SAYS Day 29, those of you who have been on this journey with me, know that I skipped a day mid way through the month so this Day 29 is actually only my 28th day of writing.

And I’m sort of cheating again because I didn’t get it in under the wire last night but we’re not going to focus on those tiny details.

This was a good month for me to write.

There were wins and losses.

Ups and downs.

And even two of us in the family having a violent stomach bug.

Fun times.

But this is how our months all go, right?

Little bit was just watching old videos of them when they were five. We were so cute, she exclaimed.

That was just five years ago, I thought with this sense of shock and sadness. Five years from now, they will be fifteen. FIFTEEN.

Like the saying goes, the days are long but the years are fast.

My how these years fly.

I remember standing in church next to my mom and being so embarrassed when she would raise her hands in worship or cry at a song or story. I’ll never do that, I thought confidently. I’m so much more restrained…

But me, who NEVER cried, cries all the time now. Cries with joy and cries with sadness. And me, who was always worried about what people think of me, cares less and less and raise my hands in worship even if it does embarrass my kids a little (or a lot). I’ll pray on my knees and pray right in the middle of the kids fighting if it’s the only way I know to respond.

Because I have seen how fast these years go. And how good God has been. How utterly faithful. Even when it’s hard. Maybe especially when it’s hard. It’s really hard to go through all that, to see Him right up close and personal, to know what He has carried you through (or around), and not raise your hands or fall to your knees.

I’ll be back here writing from time to time, of course. I can guarantee it won’t be as often. But this time, just me and my fingers on a keyboard, have helped to remind me how precious these people are in my life. Have reminded me, when we have lost some dear relationships even this month, that God is truly all we need.

Love to you all. May March bring springtime hope through the grey of winter.

28 Days: Day 27, Teeth

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There are always things we want to change about ourselves. Things we like and things we don’t like.

Well, since I can remember, I have hated my teeth.

Growing up, I had two big front buck teeth with a gap in between. It garnered me the nickname Bugs Bunny in junior high (super fun). Because my overbite was so significant, we’d need to do a jaw surgery before braces. As you might imagine, that is just as expensive as it sounds. And we had no money.

So before my senior year, my mom splurged and spent a couple hundred dollars to get bonding on the space in between my two front teeth to eliminate the gap. It was a ton of money to us then but she wanted me to smile in my senior pictures.

Ever since my senior year, I’ve had bonded front teeth. They are still oversized and I still have a big overbite, but at least no gap.

Well, over the past several weeks my front tooth had been hurting. I went to the dentist and she noted that since my root canal in that tooth was so old (it’s my only root canal, I got an abscess 20 years ago and had a root canal shortly after starting the practice of law), I really needed to visit an endodontist.

The endodontist said that bacteria had been seeping in through the base of my tooth and he would need to pack it with antibiotics, give me a new root canal, and then I would have to get a crown.

Yep, anyone seeing dollar signs again?

So for two weeks I sat with a front tooth packed full of antibiotics and went in yesterday morning to wrap up the work with the endodontist. Shiny new root canal largely paid for my dental insurance, thankfully.

But then came my visit to my long time dentist. Yes, she would give me the nice new expensive crown but she had another item she wanted to tee up: I have been wanting to fix your two front teeth for the over 15 years you have been coming to me. You wouldn’t spend the money on veneers and you can’t get braces without surgery. Well, now we are replacing this one tooth you absolutely have to get the other one down. They’ll be the same color and the same texture and if you leave the old bonding on the other front tooth it will be really conspicuous.

Y’all, seriously, it is my two front teeth. And I speak in public a lot. And am already utterly self conscious about my icky teeth and overbite.

So I called Bray. Pitched the fix. And we plunked down the payment.

Which means tonight I have a massive headache from having my mouth open to assorted doctors drilling and shooting. I have what I call little sock teeth on my front right now. You know they drill down your teeth to like half size, plus I hadn’t seen my gap in decades, so I looked at my mouth and flipped out. PTSD of sorts. But then they slide these little temporary teeth over your half teeth and cement them in.

Let’s all just say a little prayer they can expedite the process to two weeks instead of three weeks because otherwise I’m going to be hiking around Arizona and Utah with these little sock teeth in my head which make it very tricky to eat.

Aren’t you glad you read my blog? I mean really. Where else do you get to read about someone else’s dental drama? Sheesh – sorry crew, but you only have two more days until you get a break!