A Portrait of Spirit

It’s not often (read: never) that I intentionally take portraits of people; in this case, I wasn’t the principal photographer. Emma’s friend had come over for the week from western Canada and, at the closing bell, had asked for some headshots, which Emma was more than happy to oblige. At that point, I suppose I was the comic relief, present to engage in the process, crack jokes, and other tomfoolery but also to grab the moment to add my perspective via photography.

This is Jenne (pronounced “Jenny”). She’s an occupational therapist in the wilds of British Columbia, Canada. I was privileged to make her acquaintance through the time she spent with Emma and (briefly) myself here in Ireland on a trip of respite for herself. She’s a wife, mother, working professional, and all-around good human.

I don’t know her whole story; even if I did, it wouldn’t be my place to tell it here. What I do know amounts to a thimble-full of who she is, the relatively small exploits of a woman in the wilds of Ireland for the first time, driving on the wrong side of the road and seeing the majestic wonder of the western shores of this Emerald Isle. The stories I gather revolve around two dinner table conversations, the smiles, the laughter, and the general joie de vivre she carries on shoulders that have borne burdens. And yet, even with this relatively shallow knowledge of her, I can stand resolute on the knowledge that without her presence, we’d be far worse off.

People come in and out of our lives for a reason. We are, as one may reasonably suggest, seasonal people. We blow in for the moments necessary and exit when the winds of change require. For some, this is measured in weeks and years; for others, decades and a lifetime. Jenne is a lifer, a person sworn to kith and kin, to the friendships that make and break the world. She understands how people exist for the benefit of the community, purpose and place and how, even at their worst, they still belong. To whisper into this dichotomous existence that there is still good in someone even when all evidence points to the contrary is a sign of a person with their head screwed on straight.

There’s an assured constancy about Jenne, a feeling that standing on principles isn’t far removed from the core of who she is. She’s a fighter and advocates for those with a diminished societal voice. She stands in the gap for her children and for others, and when push comes to shove, I do not doubt that she embodies the underlying spirit of what Rabbi Jonathan Sacks so eloquently called out:

“If we focus on the ‘I’ and lose the ‘We,’ if we act on self-interest without a commitment to the common good, if we focus on self-esteem and lose our care for others, we will lose much else.” (Morality)

This, then, is Jenne in form and function: a person wholly dedicated to the “We” before the “I,” the care of others before self, and I’d argue that for all the trials and travails it may have brought, it is in her life that we find the embodiment of this level of grace and perspective.

Emma and I have promised each other and those who decide to spend their time with us that we’ll be the respite for the weary, broken, and those who need the recharge from fighting on the front lines of the different kinds of wars they find themselves in. Jenne isn’t the first to cross our threshold and certainly won’t be the last, but we’re grateful for the moments she was here.

We all have our own “Jennes” in our lives, those whose constancy is only matched by their perseverance. To each of you who finds yourself outgunned and outmatched by a world that’s going to absolute shit, I’d suggest reaching out and grabbing the hand of these selfless souls who, even amid their battles, understand the purpose and intention of community and friendship.

May it ever be so.