“How can you say to your neighbor, ‘Friend let me take out the speck in your own eye, when you yourself do not see the log in your own eye?” Luke 6:41

“I guess I’d always known but never fully considered that being broken is what makes us human.”

Bryan Stevenson in Just Mercy

I usually walk the dogs at sunrise. Together we enjoy the cool of the morning and I get to witness the sunrise. It’s become a favorite part of my day since I moved to Alabama. 

On this particular morning, we left early enough to find the full moon in the west and experience the growing, soft, peach light enveloping the east moments before the sun broke above the horizon line. The dogs and I wound our way through the neighborhood. We paused at the highest point in our park and looked eastward. A huge, bright, orange sun met us promising a hot, sunny day. 

We kept walking. 

Coming to the easternmost point of our walk, we turned back onto the sidewalk that weaves a trail through hardwood trees and giant pines. I love this trail through the oaks, pecans, and sweet gum trees, and so do my dogs. They like to stop and smell. I like the small, in-the-middle-of-the-forest feeling I get passing through. 

With the fully rising sun at our backs, I noticed our shadows cast in front of us on the sidewalk and couldn’t help smiling. Two trotting dogs with tails waving in the sunlight and me holding their leashes; keeping a steady pace. “Hello shadows,” I found myself saying aloud.

Hello shadows. How ironic! If only it were that easy to welcome the shadow side of myself into the light. I paid closer attention. 

“I began thinking about what would happen if we all just acknowledged our brokenness, if we owned up to our weaknesses, our deficits, our biases, our fears.”

Bryan Stevenson in Just Mercy

I looked at the outlines of my shadow. It was definitely me. 

I noticed the distortions and exaggerations reflected on the pavement. It wasn’t the truest shape of me. It moved when I moved. There was no way my shadow could go merrily on its way without me. We were connected. I had a sense that I was looking at the log in my own eye stretched out in front of me, and it would be more than happy to lead me if I let it. 

But I don’t want to be led by my shadow. 

I found myself feeling grateful for the light warming my back and drawing my attention to the hidden parts of me that I don’t often see—quick judgments, insecurities, assumptions about what others think or feel without having bothered to truly listen first, or expecting other people’s experiences to be like my own. It’s hard to look at my own shadow in front of me.

But the light that made my shadow visible also made me see its beauty. Hello shadow! I had welcomed it. I can’t make my shadow go away. It’s connected to me. But I can stand in the light and see it truthfully—noticing the distortions, exaggerations, and habits that shape it. It’s not the whole of me, but it is definitely Jennifer-sized and not someone else. 

“Embracing our brokenness creates a need and desire for mercy, and perhaps a corresponding need to show mercy.”

Bryan Stevenson in Just Mercy

Seeing it is the key. When I really see that shadow, I can be honest about what bothers me, or where my anxieties distort how I show up with others. I know where to begin the work of mercy and compassion—with myself. Yes, Jesus forgives me, but do I forgive myself? That requires honesty. That requires a shadow. 

 If I can’t show compassion to myself, can I honestly be compassionate to someone else?

That same light illuminating my shadow frees me to look up and see my neighbor too.