Hard things are made bearable when you don’t carry them alone

As I finish up the last few weeks of my service on the Maryville R2 Board of Education, I want to give a heartfelt shout of appreciation to my ride or die - my husband, Jon.

His Spoofhound roots run much deeper than mine. I’m the transplant. This guy was voted Mr. MHS his senior year and quarterbacked a state championship football team. Oh, how sweet it is that this little academic team nerd and drum major of the marching band grew up to win the heart of the high school quarterback.

But you know what’s even better? His unwavering support of my desire to help others. I didn’t decide to run for school board on a whim. It was only after careful consideration of my goals, an honest reckoning with my spare time and real conversations with Jon and our son about what this commitment would mean for our family. He didn’t hesitate. He was all in.

He has been my rock throughout every season of this work - a sounding board for my thoughts, my ideas and, yes, my grievances. I joined the board just as COVID was shutting the world down. Half the town was angry at every decision we made. The other half was scared.

I was baptized by fire, and then some.

There were nights when legal constraints meant I couldn’t share the details of what weighed on me. I didn’t have to explain that to Jon. He could simply see it - in my silence, in my restlessness, in the way I stared at the ceiling long after the house went quiet. He never pressed. He just stayed close.

Because those were the nights I lay awake worrying about kids who weren’t mine. Replaying conversations with parents whose hearts were breaking, who just needed someone to truly listen. Thinking about staff members who were exhausted and beaten down, giving everything they had with so little left in the tank. The weight of that kind of responsibility doesn’t clock out when the meeting adjourns.

But here is what I know to be true: hard things are made bearable when you don’t carry them alone. Every difficult vote, every sleepless night, every moment of doubt was softened by the presence of a man who believed in what I was doing even when I questioned it myself. Jon never needed the spotlight. He was content to be the steady ground beneath my feet, and that quiet strength meant everything.

Thank you, Jon. For all of it - seen and unseen. This chapter of service belongs to both of us.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

(Photo: Marilyn Johnson Photography)