Jeanne is the vice mayor of the capital city of Kigali, Rwanda and the woman in my life who has taught me about dignity—what it looks like, how it acts, what it means.

Besides leading her city, Jeanne is also a wife and mother of five children. Recently Jeanne and her husband, Bosco, lost their 12 year old daughter, Emmanuella, through a tragic accident at home.

When I saw her for the fist time just a few months after Emmanuella died, she was at the official opening of the Jireh Center. In soft flowing Rwanda dress she looked regal; like a beautiful queen…(or vice mayor) wearing her authority with powerful presence and grace.

When I asked how she was doing, she responded with a smile, head still held high, and responded, “Mary, I am doing well.” I was baffled at both her answer and her demeanor. Wasn’t this a mother who had just lost her beloved daughter. She didn’t want to discuss Emmanuella, but talked to me of the significance of the opening of the center and the joy of the moment.

Later, in her home before dinner, she announced, “Now I can cry.”

In quiet tones of grief, she poured out her bucket of pain, describing Emmanuella’s life, what she meant to the family, how God had healed her before, the guilt of not being able to save her now from a senseless accident. I have seldom felt so honored to look into someone else’s soul and be chosen to hold her grief, even for a moment,

I realized later that Jeanne had given me a lesson in dignity that I will carry to the end of my life. Through her I learned that true dignity:

• Is always thinking of someone else and their comfort.
• Chooses the right moment to say the right things.
• Does not drip pity nor judgment.
• Is able to contain their spirit’s anguish.
• Carefully chooses who to confide in.

Authority over oneself is the most valuable and longest lasting power we will ever have. It’s not the authority that is given to us (and can be taken away), but rather what we cultivate in the obscurity of our daily lives—choosing to be generous when we feel the pain of scarcity, gentle, when force seems more fulfilling, humble, in the face of another’s selfishness.

I’m not there yet, but I’m moving toward it. As long as you and I live with people we will always have opportunity to practice regal authority…the power over ourselves.