What do we assume?
I think, like most of America, I am dreading the next few months ahead of the next presidential election. As a therapist and a living, breathing human living in the US, I have heard so many opinions, broken-hearts, hopes, concerns and torn up family systems because of the state of our democracy.
*Here is my disclaimer, even before I write this post: This IS NOT a political post. I will not make this a post about who you vote for, why or even the passionate reasons why. I won’t, because I believe and value each person’s right to choose. Even if I disagree and even with all the contentious dialogue and tension that currently exists….
We are a society that WANTS to explain our feelings, our reasons, for many reasons. None of that is inherently wrong. We believe in OUR beliefs and our reasons – each side. And, As I age, I am all too aware of the massive damage and cost of assumptions…
Last week, our family spent a week on vacation at a beloved small lake up north on the Michigan coast. It was a delightful week of connection, rest, relaxation, fantastic food, smores and unplugging from our normal routines. For our family of 5 (plus my parents and beloved family friends) this was the 11th summer and our last one before our E heads to college in the fall. We laughed, played endless Spades and Euchre games, snacked, read, floated, soaked in the sun, had blessed conversations and tried hard to avoid social media/devices. The one exception was my dad and 18 year old daughter’s request to watch the first presidential debate.
In a recent sermon, my friend Steve Carter talked about the idea of having one grand confession daily: how confessing to ourselves, to God and to our safe, core group of people can actually allow us to greater love and depend on God. I l have been trying to be brave and practice that, so here goes…
My one grand confession today…. I really struggle with politics, as I have since I was 18. Before that, I don’t know if I honestly paid much attention. At 18, I was able to vote, tried to engage in beliefs and reasons to vote but quickly felt like it was all fake. I felt like both candidates might say the things that voters want to hear in order to get elected, were profoundly mean to one another and the whole business seemed to cultivate ugliness. Sure, I also saw most tension go away after whichever candidate was elected, but the whole process felt like bullshit to me. I always tried to vote, to educate myself the best I could, but my tolerance for it all has been low and gotten lower the last two voting cycles.
Ok, I guess one more confession…
I am so afraid this time around will be so much worse….which is why, when my family turned on last week’s debate, I sat with my back to the tv (while beating my son and his best friend in Euchre) but still hearing the already barbed, cutting and deeply painful interactions between the two current candidates. I felt my body tense as they traded insults, avoided questions and generally had little respect for one another. My insides that hope with every day to become more like Jesus, felt profoundly sad as I listened/tried NOT to listen.
I heard the commentator direct a question to President Biden, then a long bit of silence. Suddenly, I felt the hair on my neck stand up…
It was a few months into President Biden’s tenure in the White House when one of my kids came home, distraught about a friend mimicking a recent stumble the President had, while going up the stairs into Air Force One. Months before that, there were videos of President Trump mocking a disabled reporter that also greatly disturbed each of us. We as a family, value respect, care and equality in many areas. Disability is one that hits us differently because of me. Still, I am proud of our conversations, feelings of injustice and values in this regard. But when things like mocking and disrespect rear up, especially from the leaders of our country, it also hurts us a bit differently as well. My daughter was so upset that a friend who knows our family well and knows about my disability would be mocking a stumble….
That day, I took a DEEP breath and knew this would be yet another tough conversation, that stumble on the stairs for President Biden. I was not wrong. And over the course of his presidency, that stumble has cast a shadow on his cognitive abilities, his fitness as a leader and been fodder for many. In other words, many assumptions.
It leaves a knot in my stomach because of my own disability. Cerebral palsy is defined as ” a group of neurological disorders that affect a person’s ability to control their muscles and movement.” It’s caused by damage to or abnormal development of the brain before birth, during birth, or in early infancy. The term “cerebral” refers to the brain, and “palsy” refers to problems with muscle use. (Mayo Clinic).
Whew, tough to read that my own brain is “damaged, or abnormally developed.” That leaves a lot of room for interpretation….
From the time I could read (but not yet grasp the definition,) I have been afraid.
Of what, you ask?
So many things…I am afraid that when I write CP on a form ( as required on job applications when I was 16), I wouldn’t be considered for jobs because someone might assume things about me.
I am afraid that when people are new to me, see me, meet me, or arrive in my office, they might assume I have cognitive impairments because I walk different.
I have experienced people freezing up when they meet or see me because they assume…something.
I babysat for a neighbor one time, but then was told they didn’t want to have me again because they didn’t feel comfortable when I was walking with their child.
I have had people talk louder to me, speak to my husband instead of me or offer to send a nurse to my house when I was making a medical appointment.
I have spent a lifetime being afraid…of assumptions; navigating a culture that assumes SO MUCH. I have made an art form out of anticipating how people might react to me and being preemptive in order to make them and thus myself, more comfortable. I, (thank you Lord,) I have a career in therapy which made it non-negotiable that I do my own inner work with the my own therapist. These fears are far less at 51 than in my youth and yet they are still very real sometimes.
I empathize, which, hopefully, makes me good at my job with those who are also afraid of assumptions, those who have their own fears about showing who they are. (In other words, all humans.) My goals, both professionally and personally are to offer the space of acceptance, care and understanding, to exemplify Jesus Christ, whether people know him or not.
I think it is one of the ways God has worked my CP out for the good is that I both get to and must do my own work and because of CP, have a deep awareness of pain in general. I KNOW I would not be who I am without CP and, though there are many days I would like to trade the pain, I would never trade the lessons learned or who I am still becoming.
But because of it all, (the both/ands of CP), the hair on my neck stood straight up during that debate as President Biden groped for the right words, moved a bit slower and stumbled. I knew the rhetoric in the days following would be critical, assumptive and cruel because of these issues AND the deep divide in the country. It made me profoundly sad as we finished our card game that night…
The next morning, I scrolled on my phone for a few minutes before I got up.
It was so swift and so damning, the response to his performance: “Get him skilled nursing care, not a presidency.” “When is someone going to tell him to just enjoy his old age in a rocking chair…” “He is not able to walk, let alone run a country.” “A president in a wheelchair, I think not!”
I understand there will always be opinions about candidates, things we agree or disagree on. I also understand the choice to put oneself in public realm, which invites public opinions. But these are only a FEW of the assumptions, statements that are not about President Biden’s character, record or career. Rather they are a cruel and damning commentary about his physical being. These feel like attack on something else rather than a dialogue about the political issues.
Then another thought hit me so quickly it took my breath away…”if people are this cruel after his stumbles, (both literally and figuratively), what might they say about me? Right back to those fears…
I fell a couple weeks ago. I was turning a light off in the kitchen and for whatever reason, my feet got tangled and I hit the floor, hard. I wasn’t hurt, (more than my pride) other than the wrench in my back because I twisted on my way down to protect myself. I used a wheelchair the next day in church and was so anxious about the well-meaning comments and worry that I saw on friends’ faces, that I spent the morning trying to downplay the whole thing. I wonder kept wondering what people might assume because of my fall, the use of a wheelchair and the way my body is functioning as I age.
The difficulty is, we will all age, Lord willing. Would any of us want the bar that is being used with President Biden to be used on us if we stumble, forget some worlds or get lost in a conversation? Would we want to be relegated to “sitting and enjoying life” as our bodies change or be considered “finished with our identity and calling” because our physical bodies are slower, less capable or different than others? I know many whose intellect, purpose and abilities had little to do with how or what their physical bodies allowed, some of whom are young.
It’s’ a tough bar and none of us really can control how our bodies will change over time.
I am all for discussion about the issues. I don’t even mind civilized disagreement. But oh my goodness, it seems unnecessary to crucify someone because of their personhood that is beyond their control. In our house, a regular phrase is “generous assumption,” a phrase that if you know Brene Brown, you know. If you don’t, here it is…Making generous assumptions means we enter the conversation with an empty notepad. It means not creating a narrative based on a storyline that we have already played out, assuming we know another’s motives and why they do what they do. It means assuming the best about each other…. Husband reminds the kids at home, “it takes a lot more effort to be mean to be kind.” The truth of that grabs me every single time.
I’ve been trying to shake those cruel comments for the last week, my own fears and my fears for our country. I am taking a break from social media and surrounding myself with hope in all the ways I can. I am not perfect and have made my own mistakes with assumptions. But I suppose this is my way of shedding light on how assumptions can hurt all of us and perhaps my earnest plea to treat others how you want to be treated. John Bradford said, “there by the grace of God go I.”
Amen and amen.
Much love,
Both/And
Psalm 13
Perspective….
(Disney part 4).
June 21, 1996: I had barely turned 23, was enjoying life, post Hope College and still a huge Disney buff. I lived in the small ranch home I’d recently purchased that had been my grandpa’s, with a beloved roommate. She was strong, smart and a person with whom I felt known and understood. She has an amazing voice, taught me a lot about Jesus, heartbreak and acceptance. I worked for a local grass-roots relational ministry with teens that both challenged and grew me in ways that I still feel. I felt in some ways as if I was finding my place in an adult world and yet, not…I was still so young, with so many questions, hopes and dreams.
God was moving and changing me in ways only he could…ways that were impossible to see.
Have you been there? Do you know that feeling too? The feeling of both knowing change is happening and holding awareness that there was so much more going on than what it seems?
Roommate obliged my Disney fascination that day and we went to see The Hunchback of Notre Dame which was just released. True to the current Disney Renaissance, the music, colors and story were breathtaking. But this day, I couldn’t see any of that.
In what felt like a speeding semi-truck carrying 3000 pounds slamming into my heart, I stared at that screen as Quasimodo listened to Frollo in Out There: “You are deformed, you are ugly, (they say) you’re a monster.” Something struck like an arrow in my heart that somehow, believed some of the same about myself.
Maybe you’ve been here too? Suddenly struck by big feelings in a VERY inopportune time, that surprise and reveal something about yourself you had NO awareness of…
I sat in uncontrollable sobs, not understanding the suddenness, the bigness or the depth of these tears. One part of of me literally tried to wipe the tears and get my shit together and another wanted to weep for this sweet character at the hands of evil on the screen, for anyone who had felt the same and for my own very raw and unexpected pain….
Roommate was a gift, put her arm around me and handed me a grease-soaked napkin to wipe my tears. She was one of the few in my life that knew my CP insecurities at that time, a safe place that I didn’t even need to explain this gush of “ugly crying.” She may have understood those tears better than I did myself at that moment to be very honest. At the time, she and my best friend were two of the safest people I’d ever known.
I cried throughout the movie, the cry of being “undone -” during God Help the Outcasts, a song that still levels me; watching Quasimodo receive the love and respect of Esmerelda and his longing for something more. My 23 year old self believed I would always be dismissed because of my disability, could not see any normalcy in my being. This is often how I understand the way we all have distortions, particularly about ourselves, because for the longest time, I had them too. At least to a much greater degree than I do now! (Thank you Lord for redemption, even of our own perceptions….)
Over the course of this career, I have heard hundreds of cognitive distortions: “my smile is ugly,” “God cannot love me after all I’ve done wrong.” “I will never get over this.” “I am a complete failure….” “There is no hope, Stacy. This will never change.”
Whew….do you hear all those absolutes? My radar picks those up, quick! Gently, I nudge back…”always? Never? are you sure?” Then comes a (sometimes, involuntary) eye-roll….
Perception IS strong…and…truth is stronger.
While this is one tiny glimpse into some of my perceptions, we ALL, because we live on the fallen side of heaven, carry distorted perceptions. God in all his goodness, has led me toward truth, his truth of who HE made me (US) to be: “fearfully and wonderfully made;” – Psalm 139:14. “valued;” – Matthew 6:26. “known.” 1 Corinthians 8:3. “rescued, redeemed and forgiven;” Colossians 1:14.
To tell you of the whole journey would take the whole of my life. And to be true, this is not really about me. It is about US, in terms of the human experience.
Disney is in my opinion, is a powerful lens for me, so here is another small example. In Aladdin, we see a “street rat” who knows without doubt (at least in the beginning,) that there is so much more to who he really is. As the movie goes on though, he too, buys into the perception that he is not enough without the façade the Genie helps him create.
It is so vulnerable to just BE ourselves, isn’t it? And…if we can sit with it, tolerate the vulnerability, there is tremendous, beautiful freedom in the reality of who God has created us to be.
It is universal, how we strive to BE better, weigh less, act, cover the undesirable spots, etc. And it is universal…how we all are ALL, are exactly who and how we’re meant to be in the now and not yet. Our flaws, mistakes and insecurities are understandable and covered by the love of God, IF and WHEN we have the courage to hold them in that light.
Quasimodo, throughout the movie, finds himself changed, from within. Because of his courage, his ability to receive love and respect from Esmerelda, his perspective of himself is largely changed as well. From Disney movies to stories in our everyday lives, to the very way God commands the wind to blow…so too our perspective of ourselves, others and the world around us can and will shift. I am profoundly thankful that it is God alone who gives the ability to change at all.
Today, THIS very moment, I am praying for you…for the freedom for distorted perceptions about yourself and others. I praying for the eyes and hearts of the the most tender God who calls us each beautiful and chosen. I am praying that we all, each and every, can lean into kindness for ourselves…to be able to receive love, kindness, grace and mercy as we never have before.
“You’re braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think.” – Pooh, Winnie-The-Pooh.
Both/And
Psalm 13
xoxo
For the love of mountains and Jesus; or pink slippers, 10% and unexpected grace.
(An entirely different post than what I planned be writing this week…)
I have been chewing on a post for the last week and half and it is not this one….
Typically, an idea forms and the words come relatively quick. I reword and rework, sometimes erase and rewrite, but the words and ideas seem to just come. Writing for me has always been a joy, a place to release my thoughts, hopes, fears and prayers into the wide open. I can’t begin to express how important writing has become to me – and your comments, encouragement and ideas make it so much better.
Last week was not the easiest week and I am not even sure why….
I had a post started about some family conflict, how it is NOT always easy or pretty or even kind around here. And yet, it has not felt quite right to publish here, YET. Maybe in time, maybe not.
The reality is, I work really hard to be authentic, to not buy into only sharing the positive, “picture perfect” moments; normalizing both the struggle, the hard feelings AND the beautiful ones. And this past week, the beautiful seemed harder to find. Until yesterday…
A couple days before my big kids left to go on a church youth group trip to Colorado, we all seemed to be having issues with each other. Tension seemed sky high, all of us ruminating our own struggle. Suddenly, the kids were packed, leaving our house and off on a trip to Colorado for the first time.
My husband, youngest daughter and I remained home in a much quieter house. We visited dear friends for the weekend they left, but when we returned Sunday afternoon, the quiet within our walls was both needed and a bit unsettling. My mind kept thinking, “is this how it will feel a year from now, when E goes to college?”
Funny thing though… THIS post is not yet about my daughter marching toward senior year at an ever-quickening pace or my own both/and/and/and moments about that. My heart skips as I write that sentence, both excited for my girl and grieving already the future changes to our family as she makes decisions. But this post, this one that is jumping from my heart and fingers so quickly I can hardly keep up as I type, is about mountains, love and being seen.
Life for me growing up and navigating teen years was just full of unique to me challenges. EVERYONE can speak to their own challenges, none better or worse, simply our own. When my high school youth group was going to Colorado Challenge, I was not ready. I am sure that I missed an amazing experience and yet, I was not physically or emotionally aware enough at that point in my life, to face the difficulties of hiking, rappelling and advocating for my physical needs. I didn’t have the confidence. I believe it was absolutely part of God’s divine plan for me that I didn’t go THEN.
When I began working for a grassroots teen ministry just out of my undergraduate degree, I was invited to go with the church who had started and most supported this ministry. Though I was still anxious about the landscape and being out of my comfort zone, I was also beginning to understand my needs and voice. I know without a doubt that God wanted and made the way for me to go, AT THAT TIME in my life.
Before I gush poetically about the natural beauty and awe-inspiring scenery of Colorado itself for many paragraphs, (If you’ve been there, you know right?), this about sums it up, at least for me.
“There were those green, undulating hills and this very beautiful river, the Colorado. The place is inspired and inspiring.”
– Terrence Malick.
I was in awe of Colorado, from the scenery as we drove through the state, to Colorado Challenge and every experience from the first to last time I was blessed enough to travel to Colorado, 5 trips in all. The last, was the one I had only dreamed of, worked for and raised money for so a group of teen moms could attend camp like their peers.
Each time I went has it’s own beauty and sacred space. I have memories I will forever cherish, tears that led to lifetime changes and awareness, places marked on my journey with Jesus Christ that allowed me to meet and love him personally. Moments where worship was ALL of who we are, you can’t get near enough to God’s own heart and call and YES to him is the most right, easiest answer.
I also had breathtaking moments of love, acceptance and grace that until that point, was new to me. From sitting behind students throughout evening chapel events and literally watching and praying with them as they said YES to Jesus and relationship to him to the grand view of Pikes Peak from camp. Whitewater rafting at Noah’s Ark, horseback rides through stunning trails, conversations late into the night, even helping the girls navigate conflict. Memories with my sister-friend and the students who bravely allowed me into their hearts and fears.
The first year I went, I struggled with many of the physical aspects of getting around the rustic camp grounds, roots, jutting up from the dirt in odd ever-changing directions, loose stones and steep inclines, not to mention that climbing was involved in nearly anything that you wanted to do for activities.
When we arrived at Rainbow Falls where groups were given the opportunity to rappel, I instantly knew I could NOT climb to the top of the cliff we were supposed to rappel down without some serious back-up. I didn’t know the kids or leaders well, because I was asked to be an adult leader last minute when one of the others was sick. But I fell prey to believing that I, as an adult, “should not, could not,” ask those kids or other leaders for help climbing because “I am supposed to be an adult and help them!” Thank goodness for therapy that helps us see our own faulty beliefs and some of their roots.
By the next summer, I had built strong relationships with a number of the same high school kids who refused to let me “wait at the bottom,” this time around, walked with me carefully and safely up cliff and then helped me rappel! It is still an exhilarating badass, capable memory that means so much to me because it felt so impossible and I yearned to try.
One night, after worship had blown the roof off the chapel, I sat down next to a student named Ryan who just had a magnetism to kids around him. He had a smile that was both mischievous and kind, a signature baseball hat always worn backwards. He was wrestling in a way that I could feel as I sat next to him, listening and partly, just being present in whatever was the internal fight. “Why do you even want to listen?” He finally asked and his battle with something was palpable. I just prayed as tears filled his eyes. It was a holy, heart-wrenching space and yet, a memory I hold dear from an evening in that chapel in the mountains, overlooking Pikes Peak.
In camp was Soldier’s Mountain, again something I had only heard about. I wrestled with longing and grief, the limitations of this body, when the kids begged me to come with them. A group of teen boys moved me to literal tears when they nearly plowed me over in the snack shack on our next to last night in camp. They were organizing a sunrise hike up Soldier’s and “were bringing me with them!” They refused to take my no for an answer, (thankfully) and literally walked-step-by-slow-step up a steep incline to the top of Soldier’s Mountain. Reaching the top was an absolutely surreal moment, a picture of trust, care and acceptance that showed me Jesus himself in those teenage faces. Those boys are still “little brothers” to me, many years later.
There are so many more moments, the beautiful, brave teen moms that showed me as a single 25 year old what motherhood and sacrifice mean, how God can use everything to bring us closer. Jaw-dropping scenery, over and over, devotion from youth leaders and the very definition of brave, so many times I lost count.
Safe to say, Colorado has an important place in my heart. I even had dreams, hopes and prayers about moving there in my 20’s, but that too, was NOT God’s plan for me. My best friend played “Wide Open Spaces” by the Dixie Chicks about that time and it was as if they had written it for me… (Perhaps my version of how Taylor Swift “just gets it!!” in 2023?)
Life continues, I got accepted into graduate school in Michigan, met my love and the dream changed. God knew…and yet, I have for a long time told my kids about my love for Colorado, the incredible beauty and how God moves, especially during camp experiences…
I think in our relationships, there are always “mountain top and valley events,” and for me, relationship with Jesus is included. The mountains, whether physical and emotional, change us. Tremind us of the passion, the love and the goodness that ARE mountain-top experiences in relationships, especially when the greater amount of time in relationships takes place on the flat ground or the valleys (not always the most exciting parts of being in relationship.)
I have been doing clinical work for 22 years now, so my days of youth leading and traveling with students are a past chapter. So much so, that it caught me off guard when the church we’ve been attending since December began talking about a youth group trip to Rocky Mountain High in July in Estes Park.
I realized that my teens would get to experience Colorado in their own way; so. good.
I knew that the scenery would move them. I was even somewhat prepared for their personal “mountain-top experiences” and “the impending post-camp blues,” both familiar to me from my days as a camp counselor at Camp Geneva and Colorado Challenge.
What I really hadn’t considered for them was how this experience, uniquely their own, would truly translate, change them and shape them. How this week would give them lifelong memories with friends, leaders and Jesus Christ.
We picked them up yesterday in the church parking lot…rolling off the bus sweaty, exhausted, hoarse and beaming. Tight hugs, high-fives and inside jokes that I am sure, I will never here the beginning or the end of. The swath of parents hung back, both debating about embarrassing kids with big hugs (perhaps just me??) and trying to respect the vibes they were sending off. It was evident how this group of leaders and kids had bonded.
On one hand, I felt so old; and…so very thankful that after the pandemic changed so many things about so many churches, we are finding our way into a church community again, with our beautiful kids leading the way, fearlessly. A couple leaders came and introduced themselves, blessing us with kind words about the kids’ behavior and character. They may never know what that meant to us…
For the next few hours back home, the kids talked over and around each other, a unique shared experience of going on youth group trip as siblings and friends and all the dynamics in between. They showed us pictures of stunning mountains, sunrise views, elk roaming downtown, “right by the jerky store” and one of their leaders, dressed in a bear hug nightgown, pink slippers, shamelessly directing traffic in downtown Estes Park. They described “worship with so many kids, all raising our hands and holding nothing back.” They described messages from Megan Marshman, who presented them with opportunity after opportunity to know Jesus’s love, desire for relationship and sacrifice in such personal ways.
They told us about how as a group, they would nightly share their last 10%, allowing their friends and other leaders into the parts of ourselves that we all hold back, because, “if someone knows ________ about me, they will__________ (leave, tell others, think I’m a _____}”, or many other reasons.
Our kids shared some hard stuff about their own struggles. We are so very proud of them and shared with them our experience and belief that God will draw us in, rather than shame us out. They told us how their leaders discussed some of their own struggles, encouraged each other, then asked the group to pray over our kids and family.
I’m not sure if that moves you, but I get goose bumps (again) as I write those words.
It has been said, “It takes a village to raise kids.” The older I get, the more our village blesses us. The more our village draws us closer to Jesus, just by being WITH, authentically. The more the village ebbs and flows. The more the needs change within in the village, within ourselves.
I was once on the front lines with teens, staying up late, running on fumes, holding their stories firsthand. I was surrounded by a different village as I was a part of students and oh my goodness, those were the days….
Now…my kids are traveling; their village will change and I may not even know all their members. They are being challenged, sharpened, changing, softened and from what I know today, going all in with Jesus.
I am profoundly grateful for those who walk with me, who have shown me the heart of Jesus in Colorado and beyond. For the relationships I still have because of heart connections on the mountains and deep in the desolate valleys. I am thankful for those who see us not as we are but as we can be and have the courage to say so. I am thankful for health and strength. May we all be surrounded by those who build up when we need it, sit quietly and those who hype us into believing in ourselves at exactly the right moments.
“Colorado has always been a good place to find what you’re made of.”
– John Hickenlooper.
To Jesus, E & E, Colorado and everywhere in between.
Both/And
Philippians 1-3-4
