Hey there, there are some exciting changes coming, at least for me!
Through the help of my friend, Dan, we are working on stream-lining this blog and my professional website. It will be undergoing some upgrades in the weeks to come and I am excited about that. What does that mean for you?
For now, it simply means that I will start publishing under my professional website, linked here!
I will keep this updated with changes for a while, just to keep people current.
Please go to this sight, where you can read past blogs, a new one today and see what is happening for me professionally.
You can feel the energy building in your body, your head spinning….realize you must find a way to manage it….
Lace us your shoes; you leave your Air Pods home and now listen to each footfall, hoping you will find the answer to the question that is rattling your insides, even though the question itself is unclear.
You’ve been here before, this restless, angsty spot that feels both frustrating and exciting at the same moment. And even though you have felt this restlessness before, each time it is again surprising and unknown.
Maybe you are a high school senior, with a horizon full of dreams, questions, fears and possibilities. Or you are a newly pregnant mama with so many feelings at once. Perhaps your spot is one of fear, and unknowns you didn’t ask for. You are on an edge of new things, even though you simply long for “the old.” Maybe you are in a job that has lost the joy and you dream every day of the next or new chapter. Finding love again after a broken heart, a job transfer, retirement or something else. Maybe you are taking on a new challenge in your career or longing to add “____________” to your story.
Whatever THIS spot is for all of us, It IS both an exciting and terrifying one. Sometimes the both/and is an extremely difficult thing to hold inside ourselves.
The older I get, the more I realize that living in the both/and is far more important and “normal,” than it is to have a “definitive answer.” What I mean is, most of the time I am teaching how to acknowledge and get comfortable with the unknowns rather than helping with a single dimension of emotions and experiences.
I recently spoke with a parent who is newly divorced and is adjusting to a new life, including shared custody of their child.
“Stacy, I can’t just be ok. As soon as I pick up my child, which I counted minutes until I could do so, I immediately begin dreading the moment when I have to bring them back to my ex.”
This is actually a common difficulty that is voiced to me in the privacy of therapy. I cannot imagine that sense of joy and dread at the same moment. I pray for many who find themselves in this situation – it is one of the most difficult in the world from my perspective.
I spoke with another parent who said to me, “dropping my child off and leaving them at a college many hours away from our home is one of the hardest things I have ever done.” The sheer agony of separation after you have poured your heart and soul into them is impossible to comprehend. And, the joy of watching our beloved kids soar? Well, that too is indescribable. I can relate.
The now and not yet…
both…and.
Our lives are more full of these sentiments than the moments of feeling just one feeling (and now that I mention it, we’d all just love to feel “good.” would we not? )
I can see so many clients, friends and families faces as I type. It is agony to be IN the hard; pure agony. And, when we have someone with us, to hear, hold, yell, comfort and understand, it becomes a bit easier.
May I give you a glimpse into my office – where both/and is the standard?
She hung her head and cried until her whole body shook. I sat across from her in my office, feeling my own heart hammer as she described “fighting cancer again.” Her journey held so much insult this time around. She and her husband had both just retired, planned a “trip of a lifetime,” and now had to forgo it so she could begin a grueling and hopefully life-saving regimen of chemotherapy.
“I know you are going to BOTH/AND.” She blew her nose in soggy Kleenex and I leaned toward her with a box of new ones. She took two out of the box, then blew her nose demurely.
“Yes, I might….but then again, maybe not yet,” I answered her. We talked about her faith, her love for Jesus and her anger at him that seemed to bubble up without any warning. We talked about the injustice of the new diagnosis, mere months after a routine checkup with her family doctor. We talked plainly about fear and the terror of death. Then she straightened up, sat primly in my office chairs and tried to switch gears, I think for my benefit.
“I’m sorry, I’m good now…I’m sorry I cried.” She looked at me from across the room and I felt internally sad at the whiplash she had just been through. She began finding every single reason to get away from the subject she had just wept about.
“That must be so hard to have such limited time to feel all these hard emotions,” I started gently.
“No, I am fine!” She stated with false bravado.
“You are allowed to be scared.” I said, meeting her eyes. “Do you know that it’s ok to say that, both here and anywhere you need to?” She dissolved into shaking sobs again, soaking another Kleenex.
Our next few months were filled with ALL the both/ands, fears of leaving her beloved family, loathing about medical side affects of chemotherapy, injustice and cancer; comfort found in her well-worn Bible and relationship with Jesus Christ and her wonderings about heaven. She wouldn’t talk about it, much, just referring to it, “when I get there.”
We talked often about my favorite Psalm, 13. It is the ultimate both/and to me.
She continues to fight the cancer that threatens her body, but not her heart and soul. She only rolls her eyes a little when I still mention both/and. Her eyes glisten when she speaks of being with Jesus and loved ones she longs for. In this context, the excitement for heaven is as real as the hope for more time.
She continues to teach me more than I believe I teach her. Love, passion, drive and joy in the life she gets to continue living. Not letting fear drive, we say throughout our time together.
She is just one that I have the honor of spending my days with. One of the strongest I’ve ever met, along with her family. There are others in their own middle, each battling to hold feelings that seem to oppose one another. They tell me often about being disgruntled that they know both/andAND grateful that they know both/and.
That is exactly right, being able to acknowledge our grief, pain and fear that may not be best described with words….and, holding unswervingly to the hope we profess.
“Stacy. When will I get THERE? When will I just be ok?” You would be shocked at how often I am asked this or something very similar. Oh, my heart WISHES I could answer this in the way soo many would like me to…I cannot. I often answer with something like this: “I know it’s so hard to wait…how do you care for yourself in the waiting for the next right step.” This is my verbal reply. Most of the time, this is the answer in my own head, sometimes a version a what I say to clients, my beloveds, or myself: “You are getting there, In exactly the right time, in the way he allows. If there is the right college decision, getting an answer after tryouts, awaiting test results, finding fulfillment, love or purpose after a long drought, Jesus is already there. Keep holding on, trusting yourself and being kinder than necessary. In the meantime, give grace. Listen more, speak less. Be a friend to yourself and others. Allow for the whole range of being human, feeling all the things, receiving comfort in many ways and trusting that somehow, all shall truly be well, even when we can’t see it.”
xoxo
Both/And
Psalm 13
00stacy@stacymcneely.comhttps://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.pngstacy@stacymcneely.com2024-09-16 08:21:222024-09-16 08:21:22Angst, agony, excitement and hope…
Perhaps I have mentioned it before, perhaps not. I am a huge, and I do mean, HUGE, Olympic addict. I credit my parents, with whom I watched the Olympics faithfully as a kid and have continued in my own family.
As I was glued to every moment I could be in the last few weeks, I kept seeing this commercial, Second Language. If you missed it, here it is again.
Each time it came across the screen, it struck a bit of a different chord. Initially, I was so impressed that it was an ad FOR Jesus, playing prominently during the OLYMPICS. Think about it. There were such big investments from sports in many other commercials. And all the sudden, just as they did in the Super Bowl commercials, here was a conversation about Jesus, from hegetsus.com
The commercial asked, “what are the most difficult words to say?” I identified with the humanity in the words – “I was wrong,” “I forgive you.” “I am sorry.” Those ARE difficult…Then, someone said, “Goodbye.”
I spend so many of my days as a therapist hearing about, learning about, assisting with and even helping people stop running, from goodbye. For something that is so required, this side of heaven, our society has such a hard, hard time with goodbye.
For most, goodbye is associated with some sort of separation from someone deeply loved. Perhaps because of distance, necessity, painful circumstances or death, it’s no wonder that “goodbye” is something that most of us want to avoid like a plague. The circumstances can be varied, traumatic, expected, shocking, the list goes on and on. It is not something that anyone enjoys or wants to be good at.
And…it is necessary for all of us, at some point, isn’t it?
I have shared some of my most impacting losses in these pages, the experiences that in all their difficulty, have led to the love, redemption and depth of who I am now. But the getting there? Well, that has been anything but simple. That is the heartbeat of why I do what I do; first my own, then our collective experiences with not knowing how to say goodbye.
Sometimes, we must say goodbye to a “normal,” functioning body because of injury, cancer, illness or disability; goodbye to someone we love dearly. Perhaps we face goodbye to security, control, pets, siblings, jobs, plans, dreams. I have spent time in what feels like the very pit of hell with parents who must surrender beloved babes back to Jesus, with families who surrender loved ones to mental illness, addiction and/or personal choices. I have watched friendships die in many ways from kids to elderly, most times with complicated dynamics. There is goodbye to seasons, youth, identity, purpose. We grieve times of complete and utter injustice. Goodbye is in reality, is one of our most difficult, significant parts of being alive.
Can we say goodbye well? Is that even possible?
In a very therapeutic, but real-life sense, my first thought is yes. We begin by being IN it, being present with the fact that you are grieving: naming the pain, anxiety, sheer alone-ness and finality of goodbye.
This is so much harder than it seems.
Many of us have become skilled avoiders of most of our feelings, myself included. We often scroll, shop, eat, drink, work, play, yell, sleep, numb or self-inflict pain to avoid feeling the pain of loss. I have heard countless, understandable methods and reasons we all use in order to NOT FEEL the gravity of loss. It is unthinkably hard to sit with the feeling and the other emotions that come with it.
“Stacy, just tell me how to make this feeling go away, I don’t want to be grieving for too long.”
“Aren’t there steps to this? Just tell me what they are and then I be done feeling this…”
“Can’t you tell me how to make this go away?”
My heart aches when I hear clients nearly beg me for the “quick fix” to the feelings that threaten to overtake us when we are grieving.
Do you remember the book, “Going on a Bear Hunt” by Michael Rosen and illustrated by Helen Oxenbury? It was a family favorite before bedtime and I am sure that husband and I STILL know it by heart. Throughout each leg of the family bear hunt is the refrain, “you can’t go over it, you can’t go under it, you’ve got to go through it.”
So it is with healing the grief and many losses there are in the human experience: the only way through, is through. As painful as it is, I’ve learned to help people heal from every loss, struggle, painful experience, going through is always the beginning.
If you are annoyed, I understand. I’ve had that in my office too, sometimes annoyed at me for saying these very words. Of course I am going through, Stacy. I don’t really have a choice.
Maybe a good word here is acknowledging, being with: holding space for our honest feelings. It means, as Mr. Rogers encourages, mentioning our hard, raw, sometimes unbearable emotions so that we can manage them (instead of using all of our much-needed energy to avoid them). I think this is the hardest part of being a human who feels, this idea of acknowledging and being with those feelings, especially when the feelings are so painful. It is hard to feel the feelings with no end date. So…. dang…. hard.
Often, because actually feeling our feelings in scary and hard, we start avoiding, striving for a plan, or talking ourselves into “getting through” loss. It is painful, breathtaking, seemingly endless and exhausting. But here is the truth as I know it: the most important part of grieving is when we name, hold and share our deepest sadness, even when no one can really fix it. The being with, honoring, acknowledging and allowing for our own vulnerability allows us time, presence and the ability to surrender. Then when we are ready…we allow ourselves the process of going through. Not just enduring, but the hard work of taking one step, then another, feeling, weeping, feeling, and whatever else is our truth.
I have shared many times over the course of this blogs’ history, the relationship I have with our oldest daughter, (E for short). Yesterday, we moved her into college for the first time. It is my absolute honor to love and care for her, be her Mama, to soak in EVERY swim stroke, argument, joy-filled and driven moment. And because I believe in the full-hearted investment with her, brother and little sis, the goodbye between us with nothing short of gut-wrenching. I will spare you and myself all the details, (too soon!) but suffice to say, I am fully, going through it, in regards to goodbye to her. And I am aware of the positives about God’s plan, her readiness and the excitement ahead of her and our family.
You see, they are all true…the hope, excitement, readiness, pain, loss and questions about so many parts of this process. I KNOW without a doubt, that in order to process this complex change in my life, I MUST get comfortable with the multitude of emotions that go with this very nuanced change in our family system.
So, we have laughed, bawled, felt punched in the gut, celebrated, cheered, planned, (had a few fights,) stretched, made mistakes, asked and given forgiveness and so much more throughout her senior year. We’ve tried to be present and allow for abounding grace. We have tried to let more of the small things go, invest in the large things and remember it all with a lens of grace.
None of us can completely understand the pain of someone else, but we CAN sit and listen, be WITH, even if someone who is hurting, or simply needs quiet. We can sit in the through until we or someone else are ready to take another step to the next right thing. Then another and another. There is not one right process for any of us in regards to loss. Many, find peace and hope in Jesus. For others, it is found in being active and experiencing nature. For still others, it is the effort of just getting out of bed in the morning. Everyone’s through is a bit different from anyone else.
I don’t promise often because I am human and there is a good chance I will somehow break my promise. But…I will promise you this: if you are in the throes of pain, abandonment and disillusionment of loss, fear and darkness, Jesus is relentlessly seeking you, in order to be with you. Eugene Peterson wrote, “God loves you, He’s on your side. He’s coming after you, he’s relentless.” He is the one who doesn’t fail. And it is he, HE, who will do away with goodbye once and forever. He is hope: past, present and future.
May you feel his pursuit, his being with you, however and wherever you are; his holding you in the most painful and the hope of his making all things right and good.”
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
https://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.png00stacy@stacymcneely.comhttps://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.pngstacy@stacymcneely.com2024-07-05 12:38:002024-07-05 12:38:00What do we assume?
I pulled over on Kenowa Ave to check my directions from the map in the glove box of my Studebaker Champion. My map, the one I use many times for my job as an ice cream delivery man, was a complete mess. One of the last times I’d used it, I jumped in my truck to avoid a snarling dog who was chasing me while I delivered Hudsonville Ice Cream to a nearby restaurant. I had thrown the map out of my way in order to slam the door shut and get away from that furry piranha of a dog. It was probably the biggest frustrations in my job, actually, animals. I tried to fold the map back into the accordion shape it started with so I could –
I heard a loud screech, a strange, running, thumping, but even as I looked up quickly and craned my neck, I couldn’t see anything. I shook my head a bit, put my car into gear and slowly hit the gas.
I was on a dirt road, surrounded by farmland. This job was a blessing for many reasons, not just that the owner gave employees ice cream often, but also, that I had a chance to see many parts of Michigan. It is a beautiful area, a church around every corner and good people. I was glad to be –
I hear another screech and a THUD on my bumper! I slammed the car into PARK, opened the door as quickly as I could and rushed to the front of my prized Studebaker. I could not believe my eyes…. I was at the crosswalk of Kenowa and Jacob. A biker who had been going west on Jacob, was turning back toward me and this…. this…. Chimpanzee? Though it was small, it was clearly mad at almost being squashed and also…wearing a chain around its’ neck.
I held the chain at arm’s length while the biker slid to stop next to me. “Hey Linda!” he said, but I noticed, he too was keeping a safe distance.
“Son, you know this…. monkey?” I hadn’t even registered how odd this conversation was.
“Oh yes, sir! This is Linda. She is a chimp and lives just a bit over there at Mr. Kronemeyer’s farm.”
I blinked, looking from him, to the dirt road and then back at the black monkey half snarling and it seemed, half smiling at me.
Suddenly a boy about 16 came running. Another about age 12 came running behind him, though he was hesitant at best. The oldest had curly hair, a teasing smile and spoke quickly to “Linda.” “Come here, Linda. So sorry about that. She loves bikes!” He turned and pointed to a tricycle and a little 3-year-old in the driveway. Linda screeched again at the boy and bike next to me. I could not believe I was standing in Michigan, for heavens sake! I was standing there having a conversation about a MONKEY, with said MONKEY standing in front of me!
I shook my head again, looked at my car and gave all three boys a small, but still pursed smile. “I, um…have to get home, good luck with your…. pet.”
I slowly walked back to my car, still going over the whole scene in my head. I was driving in Michigan, pulled over to check my map…I must’ve daydreamed that whole thing….
The boys walked slowly back to the house grinning and nudging Linda back to the farmhouse. This happened about once a week. Well, it had for the last 6 months or so….
That night at dinner, the oldest of the boys started to tell his parents and other siblings about the events on the road that afternoon. Linda sat at the table with Mel and Margaret Kronemeyer and their 5 kids, 2 boys and 3 girls. She nibbled her food right next to the youngest, Pat, who Linda thought was her “sister.” She was fiercely protective of the blond-haired, blue-eyed girl, vacillating between protecting and playing with her as much as she could.
The other kids, well, Linda had them figured out too. When she first arrived on the farm, just as she had back in the jungles of Liberia, she would grab the hand of someone (another monkey in Liberia, people here) in the troop. She knew they were “enemies” if they pulled their hand out of her grasp, snapped at her or sometimes flinched AND tried to strike her. She usually only gave them one chance to trust her. Yes, she bit them when she grabbed their hands, but THAT wasn’t HER fault…If they didn’t trust her the first time, she just kept biting and not liking them. But the opposite was also true, if they gave her their trust, she was the most loyal companion.
Linda was ok with the oldest boy, the man, the woman and a couple of the kids. Pat was her favorite, for sure. But, the furry one over there? That one was the worst.
While the family ate, read out of the Bible and then began talking about the bike incident, they all began to talk about her.
“Mom, can you tell again how we got Linda?” One of the kids asked.
“Well, Dad’s brother Walt and his wife Ruth were missionaries with their kids, Faith and Dale. While they were preparing to come back to the States, someone in their camp found Linda alone after realizing her mother had been killed. As they were traveling by ship, they were allowed to bring her home. When they got here, they decided she would spend time with them and here at the farm.” Pat smiled at Linda and shared a carrot, which Linda took and gobbled down.
“Ok, Saturday night, everyone gets baths, whether you need one or not!” The kids knew to not complain, but inwardly felt extremely cross. Baths took FOREVER, the water always got cold and….” Mel cleared his throat and looked sternly from child to child. They got up quickly and brought plates to the sink. The boys went to get the “bathtub,” while the girls all began to clean up the dinner dishes.
After all the kids had bathed, Linda got a bath too. This particular night, Linda wandered into the living room after her bath, tugging at the diaper they always put on after baths. She knew she would get put in the basement “jail” soon, when they all went to bed. But for a few more minutes, maybe she could play with Pat again…
Linda wandered in, saw Chubby, the big furry dog, (no idea what kind she is, she hears the farmer say, “MUTT” quite a lot.) Linda slowed down, eyeing the sleeping dog warily. She reached out slowly and gave Chubby a poke. In a flash, Chubby’s lips curled and Chubby’s jaws clamped down on her arm! Linda hopped up on the back of the couch, began inspecting the sore spot just under her fur.
How dare he?
She kept looking at her arm, her brain fuming. She pulled her attention away from her arm, looked around the room and spied Pat’s clamp-on roller skates sitting on the floor just a few feet away.
In a flash of her own, Linda scurried down, grabbed a metal roller skate, returned to her perch and immediately threw the skate with all her might, hitting Chubby in the head! With a loud howl, Chubby stood up and got as far as he could from the furry beast on the couch. Linda continued to check her arm until the Farmer came and got her to go downstairs.
The story goes that while the Kronemeyer family slept soundly upstairs, Linda found a way to get into the freezer for ice cream and into Margaret’s prized canned peaches for her own snack when downstairs.
Margaret would also come downstairs and find her freshly laundered cloths, (no small task in a family this size) all IN LINDA’S CAGE! Margaret was so confused. She hung the clothes again, then stepped around the corner to watch what happened next…
Linda gathered her rope, then swung the extra to lasso the clean clothes and yank them back to her cage. While Margaret felt very frustrated under her breath, she reminded herself that “God loves a cheerful giver,” and began to make work of bringing Linda outside to “do her business.” Linda knew the routine, scurrying up the basement stairs quicker than Margaret due to the big basket of laundry on her hip.
Margaret held Linda’s chain and the big laundry basket, shooing her along toward the clothesline and her run. I imagine Margaret breathed a sigh of relief as she turned her attention towards the clothing and as Linda could run safely. As Margaret finished securing the pins and clothes to the line, she turned to go into the farmhouse. Mel was at work during the day as a custodian in a local school. Margert took one step, and suddenly found herself pulled to the ground. Linda had a death grip on her legs! Margaret tried to cajole her, scold her, ignore and finally resigned herself to just staying with her out on the lawn.
Many hours later, she sat in the lawn with Linda on her lap. Linda had already pooped on her lap, but refused to move OR let her move. She didn’t have time for this, but also did not have a choice. Thank goodness her older son pulled in the drive in the afternoon. He had forgotten his tie for work at the local grocery and had to wear it. He was able to talk Linda into moving and she could finally move her legs.
A few days later, she realized that her phone was on the blink. She didn’t use it much anyway, but it was convenient to keep up with family and other church members. Somehow, she got word and Michigan Bell sent a serviceman out to the farm. He rolled up the quiet dirt road, noticing the farmland. The farm house that smelled of baking, bacon and peppermint as he walked in. He spotted some loose wires on the main floor, reattached them, then assured Mrs. Kronemeyer that it would work fine now.
5 minutes later, as he was loading up his equipment and writing notes about this specific service call, Mrs. Kronemeyer called to him. Her face looked a bit angry, but then he realized she was just busy, flour on her face and wiping her hands on a worn apron.
“It’s not working again, sir.” She said, not able to hide all of her annoyance.
“I am so sorry, let me come back and take another look!” The wires on the main floor were still attached, how odd…he looked around, could not find a problem. Finally, he said to her, “may I check the wires in the basement?”
“Of course,” she said, still covered with flour. She showed him the way to the “Michigan basement,” the cellar to hold overflow canned goods, her trusty washer and some of the excess things needed on the farm. He carefully descended the stairs to the dark basement and felt around for the pull cord on the light she had described. Ah! There it is! He grabbed the chain and pulled…suddenly seeing two dark eyes peering at him!
The serviceman must’ve yelled, because Mrs. Kronemeyer came running! She explained that the eyes belonged to “Linda, the monkey who sort of lives on their farm.” Once the serviceman’s heart rate returned to normal, he cautiously eased into the basement space and found that the monkey could reach the phone wires from her cage and was pulling them out of the wall. After a genuine fix this time, he hurried to his truck still shaking his head…a monkey? In Grandville Michigan?
Linda had many adventures, swinging a family cat around by her tail, playing with Pat and generally making life interesting around this quiet farm. She would climb trees but if anything was happening below that she deemed “threatening,” she was down that tree and in defense mode quicker than anyone could blink. But as she aged, she spent more time with Dale who had made his way to the Coast Guard.
“The Old Man,” or Captain, allowed Dale to bring Linda with him as he worked on a barge on the Mississippi, and in reality, took a liking to her. He would order coffee to the bridge in the early mornings, then page, “Chips, to the bridge!” While Dale enjoyed coffee, Cap and Linda would play. Cap would allow Linda many joys while on the ship, even making the men waiting for a break, wait a bit longer if she needed to “get off and play for a while.”
She lived with Dale on the ship during his on-duty time and his own time. Dale would take Linda for drives in his off time and it was not uncommon for people to do a triple take when beside Dale at stoplights. She happily rode in the passenger seat and even sometimes, on the side of the car with the window down. Can you imagine riding along, in 1965 in Minnesota, and looking beside you at a red light to see a monkey grinning back at you?
One night as Dale rode past a movie theater and curbside ticket seller, Linda hopped on the side of the car and began peeing down the side of the car, just feet from the ticket seller whose mouth gaped. That was better than any movie she had seen there in MONTHS.
It became evident that as Linda grew stronger, that her time in this family environment needed to come to an end. Walt knew a man who had a ‘small traveling zoo,” a few animals that he would load in his car and showcase at elementary schools in the area. Linda became a part of his crew for the next few months. But one day as he drove, she began to get agitated in the backseat. He turned and scolded Linda and she scurried to one corner of the backseat. In a flash, Linda positioned herself behind the man who was still driving and began squeezing him around the chest. Though she was small, Linda the Chimp was fast and strong. She was also smart and calculating. The man pulled over and was able to settle her down. He was grateful that things hadn’t been worse, but sadly knew that his days with her were also over.
Linda was brought to a nearby zoo and lived her days happily entertaining many “Pats.”
Walt and Ruth attempted to bring two other orphaned chimpanzee babies’ home but as time went by, the rules became stricter.
The Present
The story of Linda has been passed on from generations, always evoking laughter, shock and general surprise from all who hear about her. “How in the world? In Grandville? Did she talk too?”
Though I never met her physically, Linda has a special place in so many “Kronemeyer hearts.” I think her feistiness, loyalty and protectiveness have a lot to teach us, even 65 years after she lived on a small farm in Grandville Michigan. I think the beauty of a family of missionaries who cared enough about an orphaned monkey to bring her home is something to think about. I’m sure theirs (or many small towns) had at least a few comments about this.
The stories of Linda gives me new perspective on my grandparents and their own ways of giving and enjoying. And to tell you the truth, I just LOVE imagining her, examining her arm and glaring at Chubby, sitting at the table in a highchair and the way her mind worked. I love the grins and giggles that bubble up when my dad and his cousin Dale begin to reminisce about this family member and the impact she still has.
The next time you are sitting at a stoplight, at a curb or even driving down a dirt road, slow down and enjoy the scenery. Chances are, you will see everyday things, but you never know. If a family in Grandville can give a monkey some fantastic Michigan experiences, there are unbelievable things around for you as well.
I wanted to share this one out of pure joy. My hope is that it blesses you as much as it has blessed my family for generations.
Both/And
00stacy@stacymcneely.comhttps://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.pngstacy@stacymcneely.com2024-07-02 14:55:072024-07-02 14:55:07The Monkey in Michigan
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
Thanks for being so patient this last while…it’s been a bit busy at our house! The blog has been hiatus due to graduation festivities, etc…
I am working on something new though, hoping to publish it this weekend, so keep a look out for that. Also some fun new happenings and opportunities for me to share.
“Mama, we just had a real lockdown and we are in a shelter in place.”
“I don’t know what is happening and I am scared.”
My heart skipped as my dear friend sat across from me at her salon, filing my nails. Seeing her is a part of my Friday therapy, recharging on a day off. Our friendship is more of a gift than the hair care and nails, but I am equally grateful to her for both.
I must’ve trailed off in our conversation as I read the above texts from my youngest daughter, pinging my phone, one after the other. What started as a skip in my heart rhythm became a roller coaster drop of my whole heart all the way to the ground.
“What happened?” Kim had noticed my alarm. I read her the texts quickly, my brain in full fight, flight or freeze. She quickly jumped on her own phone, my manicure and our previous conversation forgotten, at least for a moment. I tried hard to get my logic brain back on-line, but found it impossible as the next text came across my screen.
“Mama? I am really scared….”
“Deep breath, babe,” I typed as fast as my fingers allowed. “Are you sitting by a friend?”
“No..”
“What class are you in?” I asked.
“Math” she answered.
While I tried to reassure her, Kim was reading to me from whatever she could find on social media. Snippets of terrifying images, “a student, multiple schools, threats of the guns and bombs…”
“What do you need?” I fumbled with my typing, cursed in my head at my slow typing, but truly, probably was cursing at my utter, complete helplessness and fear.
“I like talking to you.”
Oh my heart, daughter. In that instant, news stories of school shootings, rallies for gun control, tragedy and trauma raced through my brain. The next moment were visions of my darling kids, sitting in classrooms, awash in panic and fear. Next, thinking of teachers and administrators in our school district, many who we know personally. I imaged them reassuring students from elementary to high school grade levels, full of fear themselves.
Kim was an anchor, both distracting me with other thoughts for a moment while we waited, picking the perfect nail color for me (to be fair, she most often “picks” a good color – today, it just lost its’ importance quickly.) She read what information she could find and was reassuring about the wording we found. “Lots of police involvement, keeping the person on the phone…”
We talked about Jesus, protection of kids and teachers, past experiences and the urge to run, collect our kids and never let them out of our sight. I sat with this dear friend who has known loss of great proportions. I sat with her, utterly myself in my anxiety, fear, hope and helplessness and thought, “God knew I needed to be right here, right now.”
My older kids texted, not conveying the same sense of fear. (For which I was grateful.)
Online comments and emails from the school provided some and not enough information; I vacillated between “worse case scenario” and prayer.
“I’m ok, mom.”
I stared at the phone, wondering of course what exactly this text meant. Was the threat over? Was she in class still, calmed down now? Or was she just saying she was ok but not really? Before I could text, she relayed some information she had heard from a friend.
My anxiety spiked again. I typed quickly that the police were involved, to listen to her teachers, to pray and that I loved her. And while I believed each of these things, I wanted to run, screaming (even with hair color that was half-processed) to find them, hold them and protect them. Every single instinct told me to do just those things. and yet, I could do nothing on my own. And if I am so honest, it was so difficult to even pray. Even while I told all of them to, it was nearly impossible to settle myself enough to do so….
Oh Jesus, I am so thankful that you are you and I am not. I am so thankful that you do not experience anxiety or fear but instead, you calm the wind, waves, anxiety and terror….I am thankful that it is YOU who love infinitely greater than we can, that you are capable beyond what we ask or imagine. (Eph 3:20)I am sorry that I couldn’t right then….
Kim kept getting updated social media posts and while it did not feel “over,” it felt steady enough that all we could do is finish my appointment and evaluate as news came through. Another mom in the salon left abruptly and we both felt her helplessness rearing up as well. She finished my hair as I got a text from my middle son, “being released, heading home.” My head and heart slowed just a bit…
I did not hug Kim because she is not a hugger (people get to choose). But I would’ve if she let me…I was so, so thankful for her presence. As I was ready to go and vacillating between going home to wait for the kids or drive over to pick up my youngest, another mom said, “hey, a friend of mine just talked to a policeman and they apprehended the caller.” (I truly could’ve hugged that mom also!)
Over the next 45 minutes, we all convened back at home. The kids shared different perspectives each, based on announcements the school was giving, information friends were sharing and their own. It both saddened me (profoundly) how “normal” this seemed to them, and how resilient their generation is. We talked about their faith, their realities and ours as parents. I reminded them of our love, our pride and how we are not promised tomorrow so how we treat each other is so important.
I am beyond thankful for this outcome today. I am thankful from the bottom of my heart for this school district and police personnel who worked so hard to keep kids, teachers and administrators safe. Husband and I could not be prouder of our kids bravery, faith and poise.
Daughter wanted to share a few of her own thoughts:
“from my perspective. We were in our 4th hour in our half day speed schedule and we had 15 minutes left until we went to our 5th hour. The announcement bell rang and the principle’s voice came through “teachers, we will now be going into a shelter in place, i repeat we will be going into a shelter in place. Keep going about your class period. Students, the bell will ring but do not go to your 5th hour. Stay in your classroom until we say you can go. So my teacher locked the door and played some low music. He put a Kahoot up on the board to try to get our mind off what was happening. And yet, we didn’t even know. The principal came over the intercom again and said “Lock down Lock down Lock down.” Everyone scurried over to the corner of the room and the room became silent. I was shaking. I didn’t know what was happening, i didn’t know if it was real or not. I whispered to my teacher “Is this real?” “Yes but its ok, nothing will happen” There I sat in the dark watching the time tick by. People were making jokes about this. Eventually i said ” shh. this isn’t funny” and they stopped. The lockdown eventually was lifted and we went back into a shelter in place. we watched a movie and that when i started texting my mom. I was nervous but talking to her made me feel a sense of comfort. We were supposed to leave school at 11:07 but there we sat for 45 more minutes and eventually we left at 11:50. I was happy to get out and get home but i saw one of the teacher who was in the office who i was close to and thanked her. I gave her a big hug and thanked her again. i was so thankful for her. I am so thankful for my mom and dad for keeping me safe and talking to me ”
As the day went on, today’s threat was deemed, “unfounded.” News reports made connections to the upcoming 25th anniversary of the Columbine High School tragedy. I am both horrified we live in a world where we know other unthinkable outcomes and I am humbled that even when my trust in God is challenged and I fail at the simplest of asks, he NEVER fails. Never.
Hold each other tight, lean on trusted friends and God’s sovereignty. Take deep breaths and text those you love on the good and the hardest days. No regrets….
Both/And
https://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.png00stacy@stacymcneely.comhttps://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.pngstacy@stacymcneely.com2024-04-19 19:28:482024-04-19 19:28:48“A real lockdown…”
Maybe that question conjures a giggle, an image of slapstick comedy and humor. Maybe it makes you think of skydiving, bungee jumping or other forms of speeding toward the earth and falling.
For others, the question may evoke more real life, the fear of pain, broken bones or profound embarrassment. The older I get, the more fear, concern and discussion I hear about falling. Perhaps it is just me getting older or the fear for others is becoming more evident.
Sometimes at medical appointments, one of the standard “check-in” questions is, “are you at risk for falling?” To be very honest, I never know how to answer. Someone with CP typically has more risk of falling than someone without CP. The reality is, we ALL fall down or have the risk of falling, don’t we? As I and those around me age, I hear and see more tentative and concentrated efforts to manage steps, crowds or getting around in general.
Maybe I take the question a bit too literally…or maybe I don’t.
I’ve talked many times about the awareness and presence I am finding on social media about other CP warriors who spend time putting out real life content on various platforms: from adults who take athleticism to new heights and perspectives, modeling a new framework for those with and without CP, to moms with CP who exemplify the realities of this particular disability. They then soar above those realities by modeling the same love, devotion and fierce drive to care for themselves and their beloveds. One of the ways I am experiencing this incredible community of warriors is the content that simply normalizes the difficulties…
Falling, trying, crashing, trying again, and again and again. One account normalized how hard it is to simply stand up from a sitting position sometimes because CP muscles can tense and not preform what we ask. Another, told by a proud dad of his daughter on The Moth, talked about how his daughter describes, “Dad, we just get back up when we fall.” To see and hear the honesty of explaining life within these bodies leaves me proud and in awe.
We continue….succeeding, achieving, falling, trying and on and on… in other words, living.
It’s not just CP. That is all of us, isn’t it? It’s just not the norm that we ALL portray.
On our recent trip to Disney, I ran across this quote from Walt himself that I’d never seen before. For obvious reasons, it takes on a bit for meaning for me with cerebral palsy. In 2024 I am still surprised how often I hear perfectionism on the daily. “I am supposed to have it all together.” “I should know how to do this already!” “I shouldn’t make mistakes,” and so many other cognitive distortions. It is so difficult to give ourselves grace…and allowance to be human beings: fallible, wonderous, in progress and not perfect. I have actually made a rule with clients that should is not allowed in our sessions (with all kinds of kindness.)
The thing that jumps out at me with Walt’s quote above, is that he understood how important being human IS in our journey of growth and change. In countless Disney movies (if not all,) we see the normalcy and example of growing, falling, being challenged, trying, falling and trying again.
When I was little, I went to the Voetburgs after school while my mom worked as a nurse in a nearby pediatrician’s office. They were a neighboring family who were friends of my parents. While I interacted very little with their older kids, they had a son named Tim who I did spend time with. He had CP as well, was in a wheelchair and also was non-verbal. But as I close my eyes at this moment, I can see Tim’s smile, hear his throaty laugh and also remember how I could not understand how we both had CP. I remember feeling a bit guilty when I went there and saw Tim because I had an easier time in my journey than he did and I absolutely did not know how to verbalize it.
After I got to their house, ate a snack and said hi to Timmy, I would next ask Pat to put the record of the Rescuers on their turntable. It was my favorite, an exact recording of the movie and I knew the whole thing word for word. I would curl up on the floor with the liner notes and the “lyrics” and listen to the whole story from beginning to end, day after day. To this day I can hear Bob Newhart and Eva Gabor’s Bernard and Bianca, their friends in the swamp, the theme of the Rescue Aid Society and Snoops, trying so hard to please the unpleasable Medusa.
What I realize in light of Walt’s quote though is how the story of two (or many) mice trying to rescue a little girl is the same falling, trying, falling, facing challenges and ultimately prevailing is the formula that Walt so believed in. Bernard is insecure, a bit awkward and not the best looking mouse in the bunch. His nerves and fear often get in his way, yet, it is his true character that allows him to try, try again. Penny, who is in need of rescue, tries, fights, hopes and finally, is seen for the brave individual she is. There are examples of facing fear, believing in themselves, letting others help, and finally, good triumphs over evil.
Aladdin teaches us through his misguided attempt to hide his true selves that we must try and fall in many ways to learn who we really are. I love hearing Robin William’s enunciated admonishment, “BEEEEEE yourself” that reminds us of the true journey.
Simba, after the tragic death of his father and malicious lies fed to him by Scar, tries with all his being to “forget the past” without truly addressing it. It is understandable, especially after listening to Hakuna Matata! But as we know, we truly can’t ignore any part of the life that has been given or the parts that have happened to us. It just doesn’t work…
Simba then models the same, falling, trying, literally crawling to become his true self.
Again, if you are reading, you may say, geez, lady, you are reading a lot into animated movies essentially created for kids. Maybe so…
But my instincts tell me that there are a lot of adults that identify with the formula that Disney is masterful at: the story of a hero/heroine who is faced with difficulty, watching the journey unfold in a myriad of ways, the falling, trying, falling, ultimately prevailing and always in Disney fashion, all with the help of a great support system.
To me, this is how we all live life in the real world too. It is estimated that 40-60% of individuals who fight substance addiction will relapse at least 1 time. The relapse rate for those dealing with asthma and hypertension following treatment is 50-70% One quick glance into the issue of weight loss and the multitude of efforts, shows that the cycle of trying, losing, gaining, giving up, trying losing and giving up is currently at epidemic proportions in the US.
Yet, we all want to feel hope. We all want, truly want, to feel the acceptance, love and support of being ok to try, fall, get back up, try again. If you really consider it, the vulnerability in all of those things is both SO DIFFICULT and truly, the space in which we all want someone to cheer us on, love us through and believe in us NO MATTER WHAT. I know it personally, I know it professionally. And do you know what else?
I know it from a very personal, spiritual level as well. Jesus, as I know him is the only no matter what. I could tell you so many ways and so many instances, but I am already getting long in this post. There is story in the Bible about Jesus meeting a woman at a well. She has had an excruciating road of failed relationships and just seems to me to be in such pain. Because there are no coincidences with Jesus, ever, her meets her right where she is, with empathy, love and truth. He tells her simply there is the sweetest of relationships just waiting for her, with him. That HE is the true contentment that she is seeking. He is love. (I paraphrased this like crazy, if you want to read it, look up John 4:5-42. It’s beautiful and full of incredible truth.)
God is good. We get to learn by falling, getting up, falling and trying again. We can help each other in the process, because we all want help, when we are brave enough to be vulnerable and ask for it. And growing? That feels pretty amazing too…
Both/And
xoxo
https://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.png00stacy@stacymcneely.comhttps://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.pngstacy@stacymcneely.com2024-04-17 14:13:202024-04-17 14:13:20“Everyone falls down. Getting back up is how you learn to walk.” – Walt Disney
Oh my heart, these days of spending time with my beautiful 18 year old daughter this way, are changing so quickly. Last weekend, I knew I needed to wrap my head around planning for her graduation, celebrations, dates and all the necessary business that is bearing down on our family like an oncoming parade. I can feel the music building, the palpable expectation, almost like I do in Disney when I the music builds in one corner of the park and the crowd waits – knowing they too will be pulled into the story. Our family is waiting expectantly, a little angsty, and probably a bit stressed after the build-up to finally arrive, HERE.
I listen some days to way she moves around in her room upstairs, the creak of a loose board in the floor above my head, the comfort of knowing her movements. And then, my breath catches, because I can feel the time slipping and the knowledge that her movements will be away at school in a few short months.
She is oldest, the first to be a senior, the first of our kids to go to college. And as many times as I’ve offered support and care to others in this spot as a therapist, this is the first time myself. It is both a wonder to march toward her independence and one of the scariest thoughts I’ve ever had, if I can be entirely truthful….
I try to practice what I preach, allow for all the feelings and soak in the present moments: yesterday, a few stolen hours between her mounting list of things to get done, a pet-sitting commitment and her part-time job.
We found ourselves driving to a nearby antique/makers paradise filled with vintage and new creative endeavors. We wander, smell every candle we can get our noses near, admire new talents, all the while, chatting about everything and nothing. I tell her stories of growing up with a mom who also is an antique dealer. I feel the feelings of my own childhood as I see the same things that filled my parents house: an old sewing machine, a towering haltery and age-old quilts; tea pots that evoke an instant feeling of calm, memories of my Gram and gratitude for my dear mom with whom I get to have tea often.
As we wander, we pass a beautifully crafted barn wood table. It is set for a beautiful Easter dinner: brightly colored plates, green white and yellow hues all over the table. A huge bowl of lemons adorns the center, ones that look so real I had to look twice. The napkins are set gently on the charger plate with Peter Rabbit rings keeping them in place. We both noticed and loved the whole setting and after pausing to admire it, kept moving to the next booth because we knew we had to get back home. E had to work in a couple hours….
Knock, knock, knock…
We heard the gentle rapping on wood at the same instant and both turned from what we were looking at…
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!
The rap on wood became more insistent quickly. As we turned to look, our eyes settled on a smiling young man, standing near the beautiful table. He had a slightly mischievous, yet playful look on his face, big eyes behind blue glasses. He also has Down Syndrome. We both smiled widely because he was charming. We were taking it all in and I could feel my daughter’s pull toward engaging with him. She is a part of LINKS at school, as is our youngest. Both daughters LOVE people, and have uncanny abilities to connect. She recently went on church mission trip and was drawn to people, kids and culture in such lovely ways, almost like she can’t help herself from reaching out, opening her heart and arms.
“You should go…” I whispered to her, knowing she was dying to anyway. She paused, torn between her heart and the “what would I say?”
All of the sudden, his three family members came and sat at that seemingly perfectly set table. They began speaking to the young man in Spanish and he quickly adopted the role of “serving ” his family a meal. I turned back and my daughter was almost to the table herself. I stood back and watched.
“Que hay para cenar?” She asked with the sweetest, most comfortable voice.
They all turned sharply, then the conversation took off. I was bewildered, my Spanish speaking abilities lost in abyss of high school requirements back in the dark ages from where I am now. I stood and watched, though, picked up a few words here and there. What I saw was an unfolding with this sweet family, playing pretend dinner at a table in the middle of a store because their son and brother asked; a family who’d quietly been amongst themselves, opening up to my daughter because she knows their language.
It was stunning. She was playful, asking their names. She introduced me and all I had in my Spanish memory was hola and gracias. They were gracious in my ignorance, playful as they “ate” and a bit in awe of “her beautiful Spanish.” Enrique handed me a lime, I happily “munched,” and after a few minutes we said goodbye and “have a blessed Easter!”
Daughter took my hand because that is what we do. I love that she holds to me for safety and her comfort, at least that is what she tells me.
We made our purchases, waved at Enrique and his entourage and began driving home. (They had been the gift of the afternoon.) I had a hard time speaking out of the wonder of it all. The wonder at how God created my beautiful girl who said, “I wanted to take a picture with them, but thought it would be weird.” The wonder and gratitude to Lord God Almighty who shows us beauty in everything, seasons, colors, cultures and differences. Even smells! We struck up another conversation with a woman who wearing a dynamite perfume and it was just lovely (perfume and conversation!) The wonder of bravery and confidence, connection and care.
I would be remiss if I didn’t say a mammoth gratitude for our school system, our Spanish Immersion program and the many, many, many opportunities that E has had on the the her road to bi-literacy. We are indebted to so many and can’t even find the words. She wouldn’t be on this edge of changing the world without her Jesus, her mentors, teachers and leaders who have taught her so much. I need to also thank our church family who just embraces us, sees her gifts and affirms them. Blessed does not even cover it…
“That was a picture of what I want to do, Mama. The culture, the ease and helping.” Her yearning toward these things feels like the most beautiful ache, the now and not yet. There is a massive lump in my throat as I silently surrender her again, to the Lord, knowing he loves her so much more than I.
These days ARE flying by, but this day reminded me of these days are also flying toward: toward the plans God has for her (and all of us,) toward her being who and how she is supposed to be and toward the wonder of getting to witness it all.
And what a wonder it all is…
Thank you Jesus for these days, ALL OF THEM. Thank you for the models and examples I have, who have released their precious babes into independence and show me that it will be exactly right, that indeed, everything is unfolding as it should. Thank you for the people who have helped prepare her, because the path you have led her toward is such a beautiful one. You are so good. Thank you for seasons, colors, smells, cultures and differences, all made in your image. And thank you, Jesus thank you for your death and resurrection for us all. How you love us is incomprehensible to me and yet, I am in awe that you do. Both/and indeed.
xoxo
John 14:1-4
https://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.png00stacy@stacymcneely.comhttps://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.pngstacy@stacymcneely.com2024-03-30 13:13:382024-03-30 13:13:38These moments (my E, a boy named Enrique and Jesus).
