Behind the Maltese Cross

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Garrie Madison Stoutimore grew up in western Massachusetts and graduated from UMass Dartmouth. Her debute book, Behind the Maltese Cross draws readers around the firehouse kitchen table where she relates their tales of comradery, danger, and the quiet moments that rarely make the headlines. A die hard New Englander, she is devoted to her family, friends, and the Atlantic Ocean. 
Garrie Madison Stoutimore grew in western Massachusetts and graduated from UMass Dartmouth. Her debute book, Behind the Maltese Cross draws readers around the firehouse kitchen table where she relates their tales of comradery, danger, and the quiet moments that rarely make the headlines. A die hard New Englander, she is devoted to her family, friends, and the Atlantic Ocean.

Strength to Cry

For the past eleven years, I’ve volunteered for CASA of New Hampshire.  CASA stands for Court Appointed Special Advocate. As a CASA I advocate for New Hampshire’s children who have been abused or neglected.  Part of the responsibility is to speak to a judge about the child’s best interest during a court hearing. It is a heavy responsibility, but one to which I am deeply committed, and while I always get a bit nervous before I speak, I usually can express myself in a way that conveys what I believe to be best for the children I represent.

However, earlier this week I stood in the courtroom explaining to the judge an unexpected and extremely sad twist of events in the case.  As I began I felt completely in control, but to my horror, midway through my presentation a lump suddenly formed in my throat and tears sprang to my eyes.  As I paused in an effort to regain my composure, I could hear sniffles from others in the courtroom. Soon several people were softly crying and the judge’s expression softened as she patiently waited for me to find my voice. Despite the fact that my typical alto timbre changed to a very squeaky soprano, I was able to finish my explanation, but my cheeks burned with embarrassment and I was happy that the judge declined to question me further.

Later that night as I reflected on the day’s events, I remembered doing interviews for my book Behind the Maltese Cross.  During our conversations, many firefighters found themselves fighting tears as they related their experiences. I never thought less of them for crying. In fact, their tears were evidence of their humanity and how deeply they cared.  It took a great deal of strength for these men and women to bare their hearts instead of hiding behind a façade of impassivity or bravado.

I certainly hope I never again get that choked up in the courtroom, and I’m not promoting the idea of spilling crocodile tears during every emotionally charged situation. But I have come to the conclusion that a willingness to expose a bit of our souls- to show our humanity- may indeed be a show of strength rather than a sign of weakness.

You can read more stories about some of the strongest men and women I have ever met in Behind the Maltese Cross, available later this summer.

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