Right-Sized (aka: The BIG Picture)

On Wednesday, I accompanied my husband to the Stanford Law School where he was interviewed regarding an infamous case he's worked on for the better part of 30 years. I don't usually tailgate when it comes to Cliff's appearances, but I'd decided last minute that I needed a "mental-health" day and invited myself along. (The outing didn't disappoint.)

The Standford campus is beautiful, Cliff was absolutely great (I'm biased, but he was), and we were treated to lunch in the faculty dining room after his talk, accompanied by several bright, eager, young law students interested in criminal justice. It was a badly needed reprieve, and the field trip succeeded in altering my outlook and attitude.

​As a side note, the week had been personally challenging for me, having received an unexpected and fairly scathing reprimand that felt entirely unfair and unwarranted . . . 

Upon further self-reflection, the criticisms weren't entirely off base (I can be a blunt instrument), albeit grossly overblown. Even so, no one likes to be taken to the woodshed, especially after working for months to deliver an excellent result. Consequently, I was thrown into the kind of funk that had me ready to jump ship, hand in my papers, and call it a day. (I'm mixing metaphors, but you get my drift.) In short, I was out of sorts, incredibly blue, and simultaneously pissed off (aka: irritable, restless, and discontent).

Needless to say, I needed a change in scenery. While it's not everybody's idea of riveting luncheon conversation, the group spoke primarily about the Three Strikes' Project. Cliff's friend, Michael Morano (and Interviewer) oversees the project (the only one of its kind in the state) at the prestigious school of law. For those uninitiated, the Three Strikes Law, enacted in 1994, incarcerated repeat offenders for 25 years to life after their third offense. Intended to keep violent criminals off the streets, its broad strokes unfortunately swept up many non-violent offenders whose third strike was little more than a petty crime, but nevertheless, effectively sent them to prison for decades. As a result, California's prisons are overcrowded with people (primarily of color) who have served far longer than their offenses merited. Michael's staff and students work tirelessly to remedy the most egregious of these cases.

The long and short of it is that no matter how tough my week was, OR what my perceived injuries were, OR how hurt I felt, it doesn't begin to compare to the work my husband or Michael have dedicated their careers to, often at great personal expense, not to mention monetary ones.

Yes, when it comes to real estate, it sucks to lose a house for clients you've grown fond of, or to fail to deliver, or to find yourself on the losing end, but there are days when it all comes together and you hit a home run. There are moments of pure joy when you meet your successful Buyer at their new home with wine and cheese to personally hand them their keys. There are years spent watching families expand, babies being born, and kids going off to college. There are anniversaries, and graduations, and retirement parties. I've often been called upon to be a trusted advisor, experienced negotiator, coach, and mentor for all manner of life's chapters, journeys and surprises - both welcomed or not. There's service, and solution, dedication, commitment, and passion, and ultimately a career that, on balance, is far more rewarding than disappointing. But none of it comes without experience or time . . . In both Cliff's and my appointed fields, longevity is the key.

However, with respect to criminal law, or in my husband's highly specialized niche, post-conviction appeals, "success" is calculated on a completely different scale, where a "win" is often measured by keeping your client alive (literally, ALIVE) and off of death row. It's a sobering and humbling reminder that while what I do has both consequence and meaning, it's a small thing compared to the much BIGGER picture for those far less fortunate. Real estate ISN'T life and death (although there are days when it feels like it is).

While there's no denying that our homes are certainly emotional journeys, overlaid with hopes, dreams, and expectations, and while the stakes can be incredibly high, at the end of the day, a house provides shelter, and we shouldn't get too twisted over it. Which is to say that for a girl who is home-centric first and foremost (I've built an entire career around touting the virtues of home ownership), it's incredibly important to keep everything in "perspective." (I'd forgotten that.) If I've fallen short (as I often do), I know that my intentions meant no harm, AND I know that I generally have given my best day in and day out. Here's to being right-sized. 

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