The Uncomfortable Truth About Showing Up
On authenticity, patterns, and the messy work of becoming who we claim to be
It feels impossible to show up authentically when you’re carrying the weight of all the things people know about you—the mistakes, the missteps, the moments when you fell short of your own values. But maybe that’s exactly where the real work begins.
I’ve been writing these weekly reflections for over a month now, and something unexpected has emerged: patterns. Not just in my writing, but in my life. Stories that mirror each other across seasons, revealing both my growth and my stubborn humanity.
Two Parking Lots, Two Seasons, One Truth
Last Easter, just after mass, I found myself in a church parking lot watching the respectful dance of post-service departure unfold. Everyone taking their turn, no one rushing, the Easter spirit still glowing on faces as people filed into their cars with practiced patience.
Then traffic began to build. A gentleman ahead of me continued allowing car after car to merge in front of him while a line of us waited behind. My initial appreciation for his generosity quickly soured into irritation. Here I was—someone priding myself on my consistent presence at church this year, someone who had just spent an hour contemplating resurrection and renewal—and I was getting worked up about a traffic delay.
You’d think it was me who had suffered years of injustice. Instead, it was my at-the-time 96-year-old great-uncle telling me to calm down as I displayed my frustration. Here was someone who actually knew about patience forged through real hardship, gently humbling someone who couldn’t handle a five-minute inconvenience after church.
Fast forward to this past Christmas Eve. Different parking lot, different season, different version of me. As I finished last-minute shopping, I waited patiently for someone to pass by my car. When she noticed me waiting, she placed her hand on her heart and said, “Thank you for waiting.” She apologized for taking her time, and I assured her she’d done nothing wrong. We both remarked about the gorgeous day and agreed it was “a day to linger.”
And yet, still here I am confessing that just last week my son asked God for grace. Not because I told him to—but because he’s heard those words cross from my lips to his ears more than once.
That moment caught me off guard. It wasn’t just a reflection of my humanity—it was a reflection of my practice. The daily, imperfect act of asking for grace, not as a pass or a performance, but as a way of being.
It reminded me that growth isn’t always about becoming someone new. Sometimes, it’s about being someone real—right now, in the middle of the mess.
The Gift of Seeing Patterns
These weekly reflections have become a mirror, revealing not just who I am, but how I show up. Looking back over months of writing, I see patterns emerging: the tensions between my stated values and my lived reality, the growth that happens in ordinary moments, the way grace shows up exactly when—and exactly how—I need it most.
This is what happens when we commit to showing up authentically, week after week. We start to see the beautiful, messy arc of our becoming. We notice how the blood and tears of life shape us, how celebrations and losses teach us, how even our parking lot moments become classrooms for the soul.
Building Spaces for Real Life
This recognition of patterns—both broken and beautiful—is exactly why we’re building Frank & Ethel’s. When I set out to receive a Master of Arts in Cultural Sustainability, I knew one thing: there is power when we come together. And there is power when we make space for people of varying backgrounds to meet and discover something shared—something they never imagined they could have in common.
Through Culture Lab, kids find their voice and foster creative thinking for real life. Culture of Home celebrates the stories that bring chaos to our homes and partners with families to find calm in the constant celebration of life.
We’re not a mental health space—we’re a space of exploration, creativity, and connection. A place where stories are elevated, shared interests are welcomed, and values are celebrated with fun and invitation. We believe in the everyday ways we’re more alike than different. That we’re all on a path, and each day offers new choices.
With our microgreens, we honor the daily offerings of nourishment we savor together around the table—the conversation and what’s on the plate. Paired with our love for vintage, we celebrate sustainability for the environment and for the value of the “stuff” of life.
Calm and chaos, chaos and calm—we get it, and we’re here for it all with humor and grace.
The Practice of Becoming
The uncomfortable truth about showing up authentically is this: it’s not a destination we arrive at, but a practice we commit to failing at and returning to again and again. I’m not here as someone who has figured out how to perfectly align my values with my actions. I’m here as a fellow traveler in the beautiful mess of being human.
The additional reflection of last year’s Easter parking lot, the Christmas Eve parking lot shows me that growth is possible. I’m fortunate for the community in which I live—but if this same dear woman had met me the Easter prior, she might have seen a less patient version of me. As my son has apparently caught me in my daily living, I’m reminded that we’re always running into our ego, our need to define or protect or control.
I won’t get it right—and I genuinely will ask for grace when I don’t. I humbly know we can lose our people when we don’t, and that’s a waste of a valuable life resource when we do.
The Questions That Matter
These patterns of failure and grace have me asking deeper questions:
- Who are we being in real life—not just in our intentions, but in our actual moments of inconvenience and stress?
- What stories are we telling with our daily choices, and how do they align with the values we claim to hold?
- Where is the gap between our stated beliefs and our lived reality most obvious?
- What would it look like to approach those gaps with curiosity instead of judgment?
The Invitation Forward
Over these weeks of reflection, I’ve discovered that every home has a story about how connection happens within its walls. Every person carries wisdom about what it means to be seen and valued, regardless of their age or stage of life. The young share fresh perspectives with the old, while the old offer hard-won wisdom to the young. This exchange flows both ways—each generation teaching the other something essential about navigating the human experience.
The uncomfortable, beautiful truth is that it’s not about who we’re becoming—though I still catch myself falling into that trap. It’s about who we’re being. Every day. In every moment. Who are we being?
My son’s quiet prayer reminded me: grace isn’t a destination. It’s a rhythm. A pattern. A way of showing up to the present with humility and hope. And maybe that’s the real work—not chasing transformation, but practicing presence.
We give ourselves grace, but if we’re always giving grace without growth, are we really asking for grace—or just seeking an excuse to avoid doing differently? I hope this doesn’t sound harsh, but I don’t want my requests for grace to be received as permission to stay stuck. I’m hoping for something more tangible, more welcoming—the kind of grace that sees clearly in the parking lot and learns to let go of what we can’t control while taking responsibility for what we can.
The path forward isn’t about perfection—it’s about presence. It’s about creating cultures where every person’s story matters, where we can hold both our humanity and our growth as equally valuable parts of who we’re being right now.
Through these weekly reflections, I’m learning that the most powerful changes often start with the smallest shifts in how we see ourselves and each other. The parking lot moments—both the Easter frustration and the Christmas Eve grace—are all part of the same story: the uncomfortable, beautiful truth of what it means to be human.
What patterns are emerging in your own story? Where do you see the gaps between your values and your actions? How might your own moments of failure and grace be teaching you something essential about who you’re being in this moment?
The questions don’t have easy answers, but they’re the ones worth asking—and Frank & Ethel’s is here as a space where those conversations can happen with humor, grace, and the deep knowing that we’re all just humans learning to show up more fully to who we are, right now.
What’s your parking lot moment? We’d love to hear about the patterns you’re discovering in your own journey of becoming. Share with us in the comments or connect with us at frankandethels.com/connect.
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