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
I have a multi-faceted personality, if I can be honest with you. I am all sorts of things: introverted and love when I get to interact with my closest circle or those I find a new connection with; both anxious about the how’s, where’s and what’s that accompany my disability and very comfortable in other familiar settings, especially my back porch! I am both a rule-follower and I have a bit of a adventurer, perhaps even rebel streak. I’ve never tried cigarettes but have long thought IF I was ever going to, I was going to be a badass and try a cigar… (my 13 year old daughter’s eye’s popped out of her head as she proof read THAT sentence!)
I’ve long been living with both/and even before I knew it was a thing…
My first tattoo happened in my twenties. My dear friend Jeannine and I ventured into Purple East, which at the time, did tattoos. I felt so brave (and a bit badass if I am really honest) as BJ etched a tiny Jesus fish on my ankle. The backstory….
I was working at the time at an alternative education high school and soon into my job, I began to see how, for so many, tattoos are an external view of the parts of their story that they were willing to physically and emotionally show. When I stopped to realize what a privilege that is, it made me curious about every single tattoo I encountered. It also began to normalize the idea (and importance for some,) of wearing what is most important to you….
I had the privilege after getting my degree in social work to blend a job I adored and being “in ministry,” which as I age, just makes me grin, because no matter what we do, when we follow and love the Lord, we are all in ministry, aren’t we? I so love this idea…. and anyway, I digress.
Because I knew without doubt that my love for Jesus was forever, I decided that I wanted a tattoo, a small ichthus (Jesus Christ, God’s Son, Savior some commentaries translate). I remember explaining my surgery scar to BJ, the tattoo artist, the reason for my ichthus and the call to my parents to tell them about it afterward. I was both nervous and proud as I waited for their reaction, after this adult decision of my own!
I had also decided I wanted 2 Corinthians 12:9 curved around my ichthus which says, “My grace is sufficient for you, in your weakness, I am strong.” It was placed where it was, (as close to that big surgery scar as possible) as a reminder for all Jesus has brought me through, and all he has yet to: the painful, hard and really beautiful. It is a reminder that at my weakest, (or my strongest), he will be my strongest.
I will NEVER forget my first day back to the high school after getting that tattoo. It was late spring, I had intentionally worn shorts. I was expecting the question, hoping to share about Jesus. Because of the separation of church and state, I could not bring it up, but if they asked, I could definitely answer! It came much different as I expected though…
“Miss, what’s that say?” one of the girls half sneered, half curiously asked me.
“Corinthians. It’s a -” I began to answer but was interrupted quickly.
“Well, that your boyfriend?” She emphasized, wide, expectant eyes.
How I loved that moment and will never forget it, ever. It was real and true to the lives these kids experienced. I did get to tell her about my Jesus, my verse and so much more. For the next couple years in that school she would smile when she saw me, introduce me to friends as “Miss Stacy, she loves Jesus,” point out the tattoo or even tell the “Corinthian/boyfriend” story. I loved every moment.
That tattoo faded a bit, but brought about so many conversations as many years passed. In February 2020, there was this, an event and post I wrote just before COVID changed us all, the landscape and how we all all see things… in our weakness for sure.
A few weeks ago in church we had a sermon on “what does God think about politics.” Ben Post spoke eloquently, introduced Ve’ahavta, Hebrew for “and you shall love.” I have been resonating with his words for weeks, the idea of loving God and his people, despite differences. I am a strong believer in kindness, caring for others and giving the grace we would desire for ourselves. E wrote “Ve’ahavta” on my wrist on that Sunday and it felt like it was meant to be there. When it washed off, I asked her to write it again and again. Then I knew, I wanted it there permanently in her writing. Today, she, Jeannine and I went to do just that. (They for support.) I am so thankful for the example of my Savior to LOVE. I hope that reminder to love only gets stronger. I am thankful for the many conversations to come from E’s handwritten reminder. And you shall love indeed.
I must tell you that even TODAY, FOUR YEARS and A FEW MONTHS LATER, I still, (STILL!) love seeing, feeling and explaining what this means to me. I love her writing, the consistent reminder to love. Just that…LOVE. Love when I see the annoyed cashier… or the client who I need to remind about an overdue account. Love myself and the extra pounds I wish would disappear, and the pups who chewed on my new shoes. And you shall love ( really try to model yourself after Jesus…)
Two Springs later, my youngest sat on my lap, running her finger over E‘s word on my wrist.
“Mama, are you going to get a word in my writing too?”
“Do you WANT me to get a tattoo in your writing? What would it be? ” I asked, surprised, but not surprised by her question.
“Yes, I do…” she said thoughtfully, then a few minutes after we both sat in silence, she asked if she could write her word. I knew if it had worked that way for one, it just might for the next….
She carefully, with fierce concentration and her tongue sticking out the way it always does when she is drawing the most important thing, wrote the word… J I R E H.
My heart skipped a beat…
She and I would belt out Jireh by Elevation and Maverick City every car ride to school, it was our anthem and our understanding of Jesus’s own heart. The Hebrew translations, in my limited knowledge says, “the Lord will provide.” It is layered with personal meaning as well as biblical meaning.
“Why that one, babe?”
“It’s our song and when I hear the song or the word I feel at peace.” I hugged her tight and wondered how long it would be until I made the appointment…..
A few weeks and many rewrites later, hubby got home from work a bit early. I spontaneously asked him to call the tattoo place just a few minutes down the road to see if we may be able to get it done.
That evening, my son’s best friend came over, was the first to see it and his smile was one I will not forget. “That is the coolest tattoo ever.” Joel told me. I smiled, knowing I loved all three of my little drawings….
The following Spring, I realized it was just undone, that I wanted words from my boys since my girls had both been so impactful. They were not as spontaneous, both needed some time to consider which word.. But what they came up with was no less important… sweet son and I have spent time watching all the Marvel movies together and most days, somewhere along the way will repeat to each other, I love you, 3000. If you know Marvel, you know. And If you don’t…well, it will be some fun research for you.
Hubby picked the word, adored, a word that even after 22 years together, I still struggle to understand. Am I really worthy of his adoration? And what does it truly mean? And do I show him mine enough?
(Oldest wanted to pick her own word, because technically, ve’ahavta was my own choice. Because it was the season of beginning to look at colleges, she wanted, always home to remind me that “wherever I go, mom, you will always be my home.”
Back to my now favorite tattoo place, and there I was, with my neat little square. It has been about one year exactly of loving those reminders of Jesus, my loves and their own handwriting. There have been countless conversations about my square, (for lack of a better description) and the pure love that comes with each…
You think you know what’s coming, don’t you? It’s a little different than you think…
Remember that trip I took with hubby to Disney in February? One night, as we got settled into the bus to return to our resort, I noticed a woman with a beautiful tattoo all the way up her arm. I sat in my wheelchair, unaware that I was comparing her tattoo and my own lovely square, looking back and forth between us. I don’t think I really thought much more than, to be honest, that hers was pretty, I wondered what the story behind it was, and if I’d been within earshot, I would’ve asked.
Cast member unlocked my chair, wished us good night, thanks us for visiting; rolled me down the ramp. Hubby took over pushing and with the voice of the one who knows me as well as I know myself, said, “I saw you looking at that lady’s tattoo. I can see you adding to yours and having something similar.” I couldn’t see his face as we entered the resort, but I could feel his truth, love and his big smile. I was both dumbfounded and I felt entirely known, even though I hadn’t even thought of it myself….
We talked about it many times during the week in line at Disney, while we nibbled on Mickey pretzels and “plastic cheese” and as we noticed others’ tattoos. We talked about it when we got home, with the kids who were so excited about the idea…which again, surprised me.
My E began drawing my story in tattoo form, all the meaningful parts of me and the pillars of what makes me who I am. I love her artwork so very much so that process was such fun by itself. What came out of all it was the desire to share who I am in an outward way that ultimately gives glory to God; gratitude for individuality, for love, the love of family and being content exactly as I am. From the time of Hubby’s comment to the ultimate design, the process was so full of “us.” And it felt so right…
Off to visit JR and Michelle, then a few weeks wait. The timing was perfect though, as my appointment was the Friday before Mother’s Day and just one week before E’s graduation open house. It wasn’t until I sat in the chair, with JR set to go that I realized that this time would be very different than getting my words. I gulped, and we were off….
4 hours later, JR had the bones of the tattoo finished. It was absolutely right. I was in a bit of pain and so much joy as I looked down the first night…hubby was in awe, daughter had hung in supported me the whole time and I just felt incredibly strong. That is SUCH a rare feeling about ourselves, isn’t it? I felt like, YES! Here I am! Let me tell you about my Jesus, my story, my personhood.
The next day I returned to have JR put the finishing touches on my new sleeve, a part of me that now feels like it has always been there.
-Along with my square are the kids birthdays and our anniversary. Next is my anchor, a symbol of many things including my alma mater, my hope, and a few special others. Going clockwise is BOTH/AND; Michigan, a representation of the Wind (an element in which I always feel God’s presence and power) and half of a quote that I share with my oldest daughter. Te amo represents my kids commitment to becoming bilingual and their love. Coordinates for one of my favorite places, my bike (freedom of movement) and then my hero Mr. Rogers is represented with 143 and Mentionable Managable. Up on my bicep is a butterfly in a state of change, the picture for me of Psalm 13. There is so much wrapped up in that butterfly, my hospice work and memories, my Jesus and so much hope. Finally, a windmill and Mickey; Lastly is a favorite quote from Cinderella, one of those life quotes that has just become my regular.
I keep looking at it and smiling…I keep grinning, feeling very unexpected, badass and so content; almost willing people to ask about it so I can tell about any part in which Jesus IS the story.
I told my mom, “I know this is probably not your thing. But I am so thankful, that in all of this life, through all the work I’ve done, I know who and whose I am.” She hugged me tight and said, “I’m so glad.” Me too, Mama. Me too.
Thank you my Jesus, for the so many ways that YOU create beauty, artistry, story. Thank you that you make each of us with unique loves, interests and things that move us deeply. May we always give you the glory. May we be curious about those around us who are willing to share their stories and reach out to hear them. And help us to see you reflected in it all.
I have long considered the things I learn from Disney. Some things fun, others silly, still others poignant, which is I think is the biggest draw for most people who return again and again. I know myself well enough to to know as well, that I can find meaning in almost everything, something that at 50, I’ve learned to love about myself. With my calling in life being family, relationships, following Jesus Christ and leaning into the counseling career God has brought me to, Disney is part of my learning and teaching every day.
I’m not sure how old I was when I saw Bambi the first time. I remember Bambi’s big, baby eyes, his mother’s kind and loving voice; the way the music took me on a musical journey from, “drips to drops,” storms and then back to the cozy thicket. The bond they shared through various seasons and then, the forlorn cries for his mother following panic and fear in the meadow. The truth from his father: “your mother can’t be with you anymore.”
As gut-wrenching as that scene will always be, Disney created such a beautiful picture (in 1942) about the circle of life, family bonds, love, joy, heartbreak, growth and around again. Without really saying words, Disney gave the image of Bambi persevering, even after the loss of his beloved mother. With still further trauma in a raging forest fire, there are further images of perseverance and finally, Bambi’s rise to adulthood and leadership.
In Old Yeller, 15 year old Travis is tasked with “adulthood,” in protecting his mother and brother on the prairie while his father is away. While the song is catchy and probably a memory itself, the story always grabbed my attention as a kid as well: the loyalty of a stray, the winning over of Travis’s heart, difficulties of family life and the bravery of Travis to euthanize his beloved dog when illness struck. The selflessness of that scene is stunning and brave.
What amazes me still, so many years after the production of these movies is how the creators struck a balance between the realities of life, death and the sense of natural progress toward health, perseverance and continued life. Though I was young when I saw these the first time and I didn’t have the awareness that I have now, I look back at all of the lessons in so many Disney movies with wonder.
When The Lion King was released in 1994, I was one year away from college graduation. I was in the thick of studying to become a social worker, a true Disney fan and I had experienced my first traumatic loss barely a year before. I did not realize how I was still in the throes of grief, or how this poignant movie would change me for the good. From the first strains of the first song, (if you know what I mean, you KNOW…) The Lion King was majestic. The animation had come such a long way during the renaissance of the 80’s and 90’s, as well as the heartfelt music. I’ve long heard that the Broadway production of the Lion King is “a spiritual experience” as well.
As beautiful as it began, Disney brought fans to the height of wonder, down to the true and intentional malicious nature of Scar, quite quickly. It depicted the bond between King Mufasa and Simba, father and son – teaching, guiding, discipling and laughing in such a natural and beautiful way that when Mufasa was brutally murdered just a few short minutes later, I wonder if audiences even knew what had hit them.
I remember sitting in the theater with college friends, in tears, then sobs as Simba tiptoed near his father’s body after the stampede. My heart even then, wondered how children endure such loss of parents when they are so young. I resonated with losing someone who you desperately want back.
Disney depicted Simba’s grief journey in again, such stunning and natural ways, the shock, bargaining, and avoidance; deep sadness, the reconciling we all do in whatever our process of grief. One of my favorite scenes, STILL, is the scene in which Simba runs, believing he will somehow find his father. Instead, is the reality when sees only his own reflection, fights frustration, then hears his father’s voice, “Remember who you are….”
Over the course of time and nearly 30 years of experience in counseling including grief and loss, end-of-life care and trauma, I have learned how shaken we can become while enduring loss. This certainly has varying degrees, depending on each individual, circumstances surrounding the loss and how we process. I often spend time normalizing spiritual conversations and the difficulties of who we are, why or the purpose for a loss “happening to us.”
Mufasa’s voice, urging Simba to remember “who you are,” for me, has some of the tone I hear in the Book of Job. After losing all his possessions, family, health – Job is struggling, grieving and just cannot understand. Though Job wrestles, God does not answer all of his “WHY’s??” God instead reminds Job (and us) that it is HE who knows the number of our days, the sovereignty he possesses and the way he works all things together for good. He asks us to remember, (even in the wrestling, profound loss, realigning after a loss or even being shaken to our core,) that WE ARE HIS. Remember…
When the movie UP arrived in theaters, I had two small kids who kept me hoping! I might have been in a bit of a fog with a 4 and 2 year old. We rented the DVD, because in 2009, that was still a thing and admittedly, we missed this one in the theater. We settled in for family movie night for what I thought was going to be something else entirely. (Like I said, probably toddler-mom-brain-fog.) While we munched popcorn and I had the kids snuggled in my lap, I found the tears falling quickly in the first 12 minute montage. The life of Carl and Ellie gave me a glimpse again, of the journeys I encounter with many clients. How the animators captured such deep love in the face of Carl, the hardness that grief can produce, the way we sometimes find ourselves unrecognizable AND the hope that can be found in others throughout the loss of loved ones, can only be explained by assuming that the animators themselves MUST HAVE endured profound loss themselves.
Another amazing truth that UP conveys, is the normalcy of continued relationship with a person who has died. I know this may be a little tricky, so keep reading, please!
As I walked through that first loss of my Gram, I had a dear friend and mentor at Hope College who spent time with me, normalizing my shock, understanding my many emotions and explaining grief in ways that helped me heal. One day he told me how he had seen a client who had set the table for themselves and their spouse for nearly two years after the loss of their spouse. I was surprised at the way Jim talked about this and then explained, “that might be a little on the extreme side of grief, but we continue to have relationship with our person even after they’ve died.” It brought tremendous comfort to me, as I was furious that people were referring to my Gram as “she was…” almost instantly. Jim further explained that the relationship means talking about them, remembering, telling the stories, acclimating the loss into our “new normal.”
There are cases, (often exaggerated on tv or movies) that involve people suffering mental illness and believing their person is still alive and with them. This is not what I am referring to regarding continued relationship. If you are someone struggling to decipher between the two in the midst of loss, please seek a professional grief therapist to support you. Grief is such hard work….
The relationship that Carl has with Ellie even after her death feels healthy, though still gut-wrenching in its physical loss. But he also carries her with him and ultimately learns how to channel that into a profound relationship with Russell. I so love how she is carried on in Carl’s present, as I have seen countless others do as well.
One last example….
In Frozen 2, we find Anna, desperate to protect the relationship that has evolved with her sister Elsa after enduring a tragic loss of their parents and even lonelier grief process for them both in the first Frozen. As Elsa now chooses to follow her own path, Anna finds herself again enduring heartbreak. First, the loss of Olaf, her trusted friend, then also believing Elsa has perished. Below is a clip of the haunting song she sings, willing herself toward, “the next right thing.” It is profound to me, a mirror of the many hours I have listened to those left breathless following a loss. I’ve heard from many clients how it is “exactly right” in describing the pain, profound heartbreak and will it requires to keep going after one we love deeply has died.
For me, that “next right thing,” the ability to keep going in the midst of loss, are many of our hardest moments – unthinkable really. Also for me, is the reality that God is the only way anyone is able to take another step. He is the voice inside that somehow compels us to get up, take another step, take another breath and continue one after another. That is not to force God’s provision on any, rather, it is simply my truth.
Whether you are rolling eyes about my “deep Disney connections,” have thought some of these yourself, find yourself facing grief or are just trying to summon the courage to take another breath, let me remind you of just a couple things:
Love will in some way, at least on this side of heaven, involve loss. I have heard the quote, “grief is the cost of great love.” If we want to experience deep, connected love, then we are at risk of great heartbreak. Jesus also tells us though, “33 I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.” John 16:33 God promises that this pain will not have the last word for those who love and seek him. (Praise be to God!)
God created us with the ability to persevere, because he is WITH US. (Not just in the good, but in the unthinkably hard.)
Grief is a marathon, not a sprint. Mourning is grief that is actively moving in some direction. Remember who you are, whose you are, while in the messy, crazy-making process. God knows the days, the moments, the breaths that are so hard to take…
“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.” Isaiah 43:2
Lean on friends, family, your roots and if you are willing and able, the God of the Universe who loves you deeply. Allow others to carry you, whether that is a grief therapist, a friend who opens the door and wipes your tears after you’ve held things together for awhile. A pastor, or support group. You were never meant to endure alone…
Stay in today, or even in this one hour. One step, then another. Take a bite of something, even if you are not hungry. A sip of tea, one phone call or a shower. One thing at a time. You see, one thing can add up to another and another and another. In time, Spring will come again, you may breathe just a bit easier and you will be able to carry your loved one with you into whatever comes next.
I am praying for you as you grieve a loss of many kinds. You are not alone.
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.com2024-03-23 17:36:352024-03-23 17:36:35What Disney has taught me about traumatic loss…
I hardly know where to start when I think about writing about Disney, Disney movies and how these come together in my day to day…and yet, that’s probably because for me, it all blends together – my interests, my work, family and Jesus (rarely in that order).
I seem to talk about all of them together in whatever way or however I am speaking, so I suppose writing about them all together will not be that different.
I wanted to start by telling you, this fascination and joy with Disney probably began with our family trip (see last post) and then my first Disney movie at age 8. I don’t remember a ton of movies from my childhood, but goodness, for some reason my first was an instant favorite. We went to see the Fox and the Hound in 1981 and I was an fan! An orphaned fox, the cutest pup and all the emotions building to their unlikely friendship. I went home and named my own stuffed fox and dog, “Todd and Copper,” replaying their adventures all over our house. Many of the Disney classics had been released long before and most were still in the Disney “vault” as I grew up, but the seeds of curiosity, love and story had been firmly planted in my being.
I remember being absolutely horrified at Bambi, the very idea of little Bambi being orphaned was unthinkable to my sensitive heart. Still, the joy of Thumper and Flower made me smile and this movie too was cataloged as beautiful in my brain. We watched some others as I grew up – The Parent Trap, Swiss Family Robinson…I loved them all. I couldn’t get enough. The Wonderful World of Disney was on Sunday nights, always a staple along with a huge bowl of popcorn. FOND memories….
Around the beginning of 9th grade, we had moved to our current city, changed schools and church. We began attending Fellowship and met friends all around us. I also got a job at a local kids’ book store, called, “Pooh’s Corner.” My manager, Lisa, had befriended me a couple years before as I browsed the original, “Pooh’s Corner bookstore” at a mall about 45 minutes from our house. My love for Disney continued, along with a developing love for books. Lisa was instrumental in my self esteem, my own acceptance as she modeled those same things in how she treated me.
Around that same time, the Disney Studios released, “The Little Mermaid.” My cousin Pam took me to see it and I was thunderstruck…I was at an age where I believed in things like “love at first sight,” was completely enamored with auburn hair (this is an upcoming blog post, I am sure) and LOVED the music. I played the cassette over our speaker system at Pooh’s every time I could, belted it out in my room when that cassette was released for purchase and quickly deemed Ariel, “the best Disney princess, EVER.”
The release of The Little Mermaid is viewed by many historians as the beginning of “The Disney Renaissance era,” from 1989-1999. Though I am not by any stretch, as knowledgeable as these historians, I can tell you that for me, this era solidified my love, fascination and identity related to “loving Disney.” In my mind, I related to Ariel. I believed that I “should have been born with red hair,” also naively hoped that “my prince would show up, poof, we’d fall in love and live with Jesus, happily ever after.”
One of the biggest connections I felt though was pure freedom and a sense of lightness when I could get in someone’s pool. (Maybe this is how mermaids feel?) It was a spot of freedom from the complications of cerebral palsy. I DREAMED of life IN the water. I thought she was so brave (and a bit crazy) to defy her father, seek her own path and oh, her voice….
There are a lot of lessons that I learned from Ariel, her friends and family, some I continue to learn into my adulthood and add to with the release of the live-action version of The Little Mermaid last year. Here are a few, in no particular order.
Don’t be afraid to be a “help.” Be safe, yes, but also quick to assist as needs arise.
Be curious – “whoozits and whatzits galore, you want thingamabobs? I got 20…” I think Ariel (both) gave a great vison of leaning into the the things that bring us awe and curiosity. For me, this translates to the ways God has created each of us with interests, passions and curiosities, the nudging of the Holy Spirit to become those God-gifted versions of ourselves.
Be aware of everything around you. As I grew up, I became more and more aware of the parts of Ariel that concerned me. As I often do with movies, I find myself thinking or speaking out loud, “why are you going in there, down there, through there, etc?! Don’t you see (or FEEL) the danger??” I am well aware that if Ariel had listened to the warning signs that screamed as she approached Ursula, the movie might have flopped, but I do think it’s a great talking point to listen, look and pay attention, especially, if something “looks and sounds too good to be true, it just may be.”
Following your heart in the moment may bring more trouble than “a dream come true.” (and we all want “the dream come true.”
Always try to be open-minded and non-judgmental about others. I loved how the current Ariel was brave in saying to her father, “not all humans are bad, father.” He assumed because a human had harmed his wife, that all “are barbarians.” I think both movies did this well, but the more recent Little Mermaid was much more pointed and articulated about this truth.
There are so many to name…including, fish are friends, not food!” Even so, the one that came to me out of the blue, very early in my career has to do with Ursula, shipwrecks and grief.
Do you remember the scene after Ursula secures the trident and grows to a towering monster of the sea? She begins to swirl the water where Eric and Ariel swim, creating a whirlpool from the sea floor up to the surface. As she swirls, long buried shipwrecks begin to rise to the top of the water, bobbing and swaying in the frothy, tumultuous water.
While an intern at Hospice, it occurred to me how an immediate loss was much like Ursula in that scene. Throughout my career, that analogy has become even clearer, especially with a traumatic loss. Subsequently, our past losses (shipwrecks) also rise to the surface as we move through current loss. Over time, this analogy has normalized a lot of loss, trauma and connection. The image allows me to give a framework to how losses, both current and past, connect and impact so many parts of us as we tend to the unwanted path of grief. And though this (probably) was not Disney’s meaning behind that scene with Ursula, shipwrecks and crashing waves, it has been the truest image of grief that I have ever seen.
The newest version of the Little Mermaid gives us deeper messages of acceptance, explanation, strength and grief: The crashing of hope, differences in beliefs, needs and desires; the unexplained loss of many and finally, a deeper understanding allows us a new (again) perspective of grief.
I am grateful for the creativity of animators who create images that give birth to ideas, deeper meaning and understanding. It is a miraculous moment when a therapist gets to assist in those moments of clear understanding and deeper truths inside of us. That image, in my experience, has provided many with a way of understanding and explaining what the magnitude of grief can feel like for some. It is then, that we get to discuss the magnitude of hope, resilience, strength and hope. Sometimes, there are discussions about how Jesus calms the storm, thus settling the water, the size of grief and assists with processing past trauma and loss right beside us.
When it is hard to find helpful words, hope sometimes becomes clear in a picture. Sometimes that picture speaks a thousand words. I pray that your pictures are full of Jesus’s heart and the hope of him, always. I pray for purpose that feeds the creativity that we were born with. And if you are facing Ursula, (the current grief) and shipwrecks (past losses, dreams unrealized, or other past pain), you are not alone. Lean into your support system, reach out for help, know that the God of heaven and earth is with and for you…always.
Psalm 89:8-9
O Lord God of hosts, who is mighty as you are, O Lord, with your faithfulness all around you? 9 You rule the raging of the sea; when its waves rise, you still them.
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.com2024-03-13 14:17:202024-03-13 14:17:20What we can learn from Ariel, Ursula, shipwrecks, grief and Jesus.
The heaviness he shared felt nothing short of oppressive…a 100 pound weight blanket that paralyzed in every way. He shared all the methods and advice he’d been given over a lifetime of fighting and I do mean, FIGHTING depression. From all the adages that well-meaning friends, family and professionals advise: “eat healthy, exercise, journal, pay attention to negative thoughts, mindfulness, prayer, meditation, yoga…” There was also deeper advice, involving medication, invasive brain treatment and years of therapy….
My heart breaks as I listen intently. I both BELIEVE in ALL of that true and well- researched advice and I am again understanding how depression can feel, paralyzing a person’s ability to help themselves. All I can do in these breathtakingly sad and difficult moments is be near: witness and empathize and validate the sheer anguish that IS everyday living with depression.
A video popped up on my feed yesterday in which Kate Bowler was interviewing Lisa Damour. The title of the video said, “How saying, that sucks, I’m sorry has spiritual power. (See link below!) https://youtu.be/mHQGCNeBx7k?si=DwOX89K_BwW5Iy7S
Don’t we all just want someone to be WITH US when something really hurts, agonizes or aggravates?
It is still, after 23 years in the field of counseling, an amazing moment when I am allowed to sit with clients in the hardest, most painful parts of life. The moment when I remind myself to stay silent and after the right pause in the telling of one’s story, I can just utter, “That must be so hard, I am so sorry,” or, “that sucks…” It IS spiritual. I can physically see sighs of relief, shoulders loosen or facial expressions ease as I listen and acknowledge each person’s lived experience….
Losses that feel so final that one doesn’t know if they can gather the strength to take another breath. A cancer diagnosis that in a swoop, changes an entire families’ future plans or years of infertility, treatments and silent suffering amidst a world of women who seem to easily get pregnant; and the slow, cruel loss of a lifetime of dreams about motherhood. These are just a few this year, that I have the honor of being with.
To be entirely honest, I am often torn between the helplessness so many feel, the responsibility in my calling and the sheer audacity of hope that I am allowed to witness each and every day.
My grandfather died nearly 30 years ago, about two years after my grandma. Both died very suddenly and I don’t think I had a clue what grief was, mercifully, until then. I know that I had not fully processed the loss of Gram, when I received a phone call while at work (my parents were on vacation) that my Aunt had found Grandpa at his home after what appeared to be a stroke.
The days and weeks to follow were a blur. Somewhere in those new, raw and unreal days of loss, I heard a song lyric about, wishing you a brave new year. I clung to that phrase, not at all sure how to be brave and hoping it was possible, to indeed have, a brave new year.
That phrase has stayed with me ever since….both the undeniable, unstoppable hope in that wish and the awareness, deeper over time how monumentally hard it is to feel, be or hope to be brave. From the time I heard that lyric to the present is a journey from finding my own bravery to helping others find it also.
What comes to mind with the word, brave? I threw out a small poll and here are some of the responses I received:
“Bravery and courage are interchangeable to me. It’s being fearful of stepping forward, but doing it despite fear and WITH the fear.
But the thing is, the fear you started the steps with, never makes it to the end point with you.”
-JB
“Brave is an adjective. To be brave is to do or be something that you never believed possible, to beat the odds that are stacked against you; to continue growing amidst challenges and obstacles, to choose to get up in the morning when it seems there’s nothing to even wake up for, to make it through the day, to forgive, to do all the things that in your mind can’t be done. Bravery and faith are intertwined, as they are both taking the first step, even when you can’t see the whole staircase.” -EM
“ToOvercome, not all heroes wear capes.” – MM
“Fear because usually when you are brave you are doing something that scares you or gives you fear” -EWM
For me, there are many that come to mind. There is the Disney movie starring feisty Merida, of course. There are so many inspiring stories from all over social media. There are those who currently, as I write, are somehow bravely surviving in war-torn parts of the Middle East and beyond. I think of a pastor I began listening to 2 years ago who has recently had a recurrence of cancer in his brain. I think of how Amy Purdy, who inspires me, starting with her appearances on Dancing with the Stars.
But do you know what else? My perspective of brave has shifted. The images above ARE so brave…and so is the family who is advocating for mental health awareness following the unexpected death by suicide of a beloved friend, daughter, son or parent. Those who are quietly coming to sessions, learning to feel all the hard feelings and sharing their story safely.
Brave IS the person who DOESN’T give in to the temptation to relieve their pain by attempting suicide. Brave IS showing up day after day in the midst of bullying, holding on to your own beliefs and not giving into the ever-present lies of worthlessness. Brave IS saying, “I am not going to drink, smoke or hurt myself” when it seems so much simpler to do so to ease pain. Brave is every day -choices to live out faith, beliefs and boundaries when there is so much pushback…
Brave is continuing to fight whatever fight you are fighting: a minute, hour, day, week, month or year at a time. Brave is listening to that strong voice inside you that guides you to the next right thing. Maybe that means relinquishing something we love dearly this year, dream or part of because you know it is right. (By the way, I believe, that the right thing is rarely the easy thing and that in itself is brave. Maybe that is choosing your own need or right thing amidst a sea of opinions, advice and pressure from all around.
It is BRAVE to change career paths amidst choices and already laid paths leading to a “safe” spot, but the gnawing inside you is unable to forget a different opportunity or idea.
Have you watched Frozen 2? Elsa, Anna, Kristoff and friends are busy in what seems the “happy ever after” following Frozen. Yet, Elsa is stirred by an unknown, beckoning voice. She tries so hard to ignore the voice, yet, in, Into the Unknown, she cannot not hear it. (Link to the song here. https://youtu.be/l1uoTMkhUiE?si=oP-FUbE-5jcwVLy9 )
You can hear her internal struggle between both wanting to be content and afraid to let people down or change and then…the brave, heart-swelling moments of finding herself and her truth. Later, as she comes to a watershed moment in her quest to understand the calling – she is earnest, passionate and brave in seeking.
Maybe you agree or don’t, but to me, Show Yourself (https://youtu.be/md7dK5-qvHc?si=oUicMlnS5TMG5wFN) is a picture of embracing the Holy Spirit in some ways. The brave, brave effort of seeking truth and the singular drive toward hope is astounding.
Maybe our job with bravery is to see it in all things and understand that it really is breath-taking. Getting up in the morning for some, is the BRAVEST thing. Believing in yourself, so brave. Praying and holding on…I believe all of heaven is moved in this brave, holy effort.
Maybe…just maybe, we need to slow ourselves, offer so much more tenderness and earnestly seek the ways we and others around us are profoundly brave in this next year. Change IS brave. Big and so small. Hope is brave, always. Trying, is so brave! Surrender and tenacity and when we need each, is ridiculously brave.
Give yourself permission to change the way you experience brave this year. Don’t buy into the January hype that may say the only way to success is weight-loss, new goals and resolutions. Try Softer, as Aundi Kobler’s book says. (If you need a beautiful read, that one is it!) Kinder, softer slower.
Bravery is all around you. I believe in you and I know and believe in who Jesus is. Always.
1 Cor. 16:13
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For much of my growing up, I heard I was too sensitive, that I needed to get tougher and that even though I cared, sometimes it seemed as if I cared too much. I had so many emotions, in my teenage years, I am sure my parents and siblings felt like they were pretty consistently on a roller coaster. It was much later that I realized that it wasn’t just me, but actually a normal developmental stage for pre-teen and teen girls. I felt my excitement big, my fear bigger, had anxiety that stopped me in my tracks and sadness when others struggled. I am fairly certain that God was, all the while, shaping my sense of empathy; I just needed to grow up a bit in order to understand it.
While I would not change a thing as I look back on my life, at the time I felt like a little kid who did not have a clue how to manage feelings and certainly did not know about both/and. My parents are AVID Olympic fans, something they’ve definitely passed on (ice skating for me, my mom and sister – we all screech like owls while we watch, holding our breath and hoping that the leading US skater would land their axels, spins and salchows.) I still watch the Olympics like it is my job, staying up way too late, cheering and following the inspiring back stories of the elite athletes who make it ALL look so easy.
But even though we watched as a family and talked about the Olympics all the time, I couldn’t make sense the overwhelming awe, often times, sadness and something else it took me years to understand or begin to explain, even to myself: jealousy. I learned in time that there was a tangled knot of emotions, the beautiful and the hard. That’s how all of our experiences are though, as far as I can tell…the both/and in all of life.
When our kids were young, showing interest in new things, I was simply amazed at the way their bodies functioned, with ease, strength and the “normal” that I longed for. Our oldest tried ballet, tumbling and Girl Scouts.
One day I arrived to pick her up and found her troupe playing duck, duck goose to finish the days meeting. I watched, observing the fun of the chase. My experiences had been so different than this, the fear of getting picked because I must be a slow, deliberate runner; fear of tripping, get extremely embarrassed. But I was even more fearful of being “the goose” until I was age 20 because I couldn’t catch “the duck.”
Suddenly a sweet little girl got picked, “Goose!” She let out a breathy giggle as she stood up and threw her head back with laughter as she started chasing. Her long brown hair fell past her shoulders and her excitement at getting chosen simply stunned me.
I took a breath and felt my heart slam in my chest like a timpani drum, for just a few seconds. Along with her irrepressible smile, she ran while wearing medical equipment that was her lifeline, in a backpack. She had a somewhat familiar gait and a sense of wonder I had not encountered at that point in my life. Her mom helped but didn’t hover and little did I know then, the biggest cheerleaders in the duck and goose circle were her sisters, quadruplets.
Tears filled my eyes as the group cheered her on, yelling and encouraging, her giggle and joy nearly filling and bursting that whole room. I will never forget that first time seeing sweet Keyan and how she and her dear family teach me still about acceptance, sacrifice, family and joy. From what I know of her, she had no idea she was born an underdog in so many ways, but really, was anything but.
It’s happened many times over the course of our family life, tears filling my eyes as a teammate or another person “succeeds ” or a news story about someone hospitalized for an extended period, the staff clapping as they “graduate”; scrolling on my phone when a kid or adult who struggles in some way, only to reach the end of a race or goal and finish well, full of pride. My friend’s wheelchair rugby games or watching the elementary kid who participates in a running fundraiser while in a cast. If you have a minute, look up Rick and Dick Hoyt on YouTube…you will get the idea….
My family is not surprised to see me shed a few tears also as we watch different genres of tv, reality shows, athletics events or really, anything with a compelling story. But there are few shows that evoke tears quicker than I can wipe them away, my favorite being American Ninja Warrior.
Have you ever watched the discipline and athleticism with awe? Me too…. But I need to confess, I watch any and all sporting events that same way. Every single athlete who walks out on a field, braves getting across a wet pool deck, balances on starting blocks or diving boards, runs across a shiny gym floor or pole vaults in front of packed stands has in my mind, won a gold medal just for “doing.”
I unbashedly live vicariously through my kids events and events of their friends, not asking them to participate “for me,” but simply watching and soaking in every thing, as if I could somehow feel some tiny bit of team if I pay close enough attention. And the truth is, they ARE the definition of success to me, even before they start to play. For those who can’t even think about even the simplest part of being a part of a team for many different reasons, it is alla wonder, every single part. I really don’t have any frame of reference for how they accomplish so many different things…
Maybe that is why, in every story on ANW, I find inspiration. It is incredible to me, the dedication, strength and control. But it is also the the athletes who defy the odds, who fight their way through both literal and sometimes internal obstacles, who never fail to illicit the “good tears.” I love the achievements, especially when I know how much effort the little things take for so many people, not just as athletes. For some, dedication and strength is finding a way to get out of bed. The kid on the swim team, finishing the race after every other athlete, but does not give up and still finishes. The student who raises their hand in class as anxiety swirls and their stomach clenches because they just became the center of attention. Or the student who reports abuse at the hands of a family member, despite the waves of shock and conflict sure to ensue in the aftermath. Yes, the good and hard tears, most certainly….
I read a story recently in one of the Disney groups I follow, that if I can paraphrase, went a bit like this: A single mom who battles extreme anxiety and claustrophobia, saved for about a year to take her kids to Disney World, even though the idea of close quarters on the rides was utterly terrifying to her. She “didn’t want them to miss out because of her.” She got on a ride and began to experience a severe panic attack before the ride even began. She hastily got off and a cast member quickly made her way to her side. The cast member let her sit in an unused ride vehicle, then went on the ride with her, pointing out exits and “Easter eggs.” (details hidden throughout the ride to broaden the story and sometimes pay homage to designers.) The mom couldn’t stop crying as she made it all the way through the ride. So much bravery and strength. (Yes, I cried a bit, reading that story.)
In 2019, Kodi Lee made his way across the audition stage on America’s Got Talent, his mom next to him. He walked with a cane and his mom was beaming and steadfast. She described his early diagnoses, blindness and autism. She described him as “an entertainer,” how music saved his life…but silence after the introductions was palpable. There was a long pause, then Kodi began to sing, “A Song for You.” The judges and crowd were mesmerized, and I cried for both the struggle and the victory as the young man born with “differences” sang his heart out to thunderous applause. The judges and audience were also crying as he was given the coveted Golden Buzzer. I kept thinking, so well deserved, and likely so rare he would be celebrated, like this. (Spoiler…he went on to WIN that season, changing the minds and hearts of millions related to ability and talent. Videos from his performances are reported to be the “most watched in AGT history.” He plays nightly in Vegas. For a boy who could “barely string together words,” this is the underdog story…)
I am drawn to the underdog/ success stories in everything from March Madness to movies to real life; the grit, perseverance and the beauty wrapped up together. As I have spent time writing this piece and thinking through what it is that I want to convey, a realization hit me: as much as I love the image of conquering big battles and hard-fought victories, there is something else that I am drawn to as well. One of my favorite words is redeemed. Dictionary.com defines it this way: an act of redeeming or atoning for a fault or mistake, or the state of being redeemed. deliverance; rescue.
Redemption and having audacious hope is what I love most about the God of Heaven, Jesus and this story – perseverance, passion, rescue and love for all, including all of us underdogs. It is a redemption story like none other, both victory and redemption we absolutely cannot wrap our minds around. And this is the truth that always brings me to tears. I am undone at the reality that Jesus died for me, (for all of us) when he did not have to, not for a second. God himself says that the last here on earth will be first in heaven. I can’t even fathom the beauty in that…or the fact that though I deserve, “underdog status,” God promises the biggest victory.
Until then, I don’t want to stop crying the happy tears, cheering with my whole heart and yearning for redemption of all things. I never want to lose the awe in all things. I want to celebrate movement, trying and trying again. I want to feel hope, wonder and take nothing for granted. And I always want to be thankful to the one whose heart, sacrifice and love is so much more than I could ever imagine. May we love well, those who feel unlovable, may we see those who feel invisible and may we love extravagantly like you do, Jesus, always.
Both/And
Psalm 13
https://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.png00Stacyhttps://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.pngStacy2023-06-19 22:25:542023-06-19 22:25:54Underdogs and tears, the One who perseveres (and redeems.)
We are, in our family of 5, spinning lately between our kids spring sports and events, church events, commitments to friends and family. These are all things we love, and the pace has just amped up! There is a metronome in the back of my mind, slowly ticking as we edge toward summer. But not just, “another summer,” but the last summer before my daughter graduates from high school… (Can you hear the excitement, overwhelm and perhaps a little shock in these words of mine?)
I’ve also been thinking about the many facets of family, even as I try to keep up with our schedule: in my counseling practice, the lives of friends and our family, as our daughter stands on the brink of college decisions and all that lies ahead.
During counseling sessions throughout the week, I can safely say that some of the struggles of family show up in some way, each and every session: beautiful, haunting, wounded, and abusive; broken, connected, healthy and hopeful. The constellations of family have changed in a multitude of amazing ways over the course of my career, and yet, the themes seem to remain the same: the hope to belong, be accepted and loved unconditionally. And truly, wanting our families to provide these values to each other in ALL the ways.
As we grow, I believe we also all have the hope and desire to provide these same values to families of our own. Some may call me idealistic, but my experience and my belief in the inherent good that God created us with, says that every parent WANTS DESPERATELY to provide to and receive love from every child ever born. And sadly, it is not always there or possible in some family situations….
If we turn on the news, drive down the road, scroll through social media, listen to kids after school, overhear conversation at work or perhaps all of the above, we know there is an excruciating amount of pain in families around the world at this very moment. Whether it is financial hardship, emotional instability, food insecurity, physical or sexual abuse or a myriad of other reasons, individuals ARE struggling, hurting, while also yearning for love and acceptance. While those may be some of the extremes, there are layers of pain, levels of longing for all of us, for connection with family.
Not only do I hear from the brave clients who tell me, but I can also tell from the increasing numbers of individuals searching for meaning, for the moments of connection and even perfection in families of our own….
I am an AVID Disney fan, have loved Mickey since our first family trip many, many years ago. A few years ago, my husband and I were ready to take our kids to the “happiest place on earth.” This was the very first trip for us and our babes, then 8, 6 and 3. Enough people had warned us to not “buy into the hype,” so we tried to lower our expectations. We knew there would be tantrums, possible tears instead of delight upon seeing Mickey and Minnie, sore feet and tired legs, arguments about souvenirs and much more. We hoped for beautiful memories, moments of pure delight and family fun. There were absolutely all of this and then some on that first trip. Unforgettable memories, even the hard ones.
A particular memory wasn’t really even about our family, but has stuck with me for many reasons. One morning as we hurried to get a spot for our son in the “Jedi Training Academy.” We hadn’t gotten up before dawn, (suggested if we REALLY wanted a spot for him,) but we did go to The Star Wars part of the park, first thing. We asked the cast member standing near us and were told the “Academy was full.” We explained this to our son, who was disappointed, but still happy to be at Disney. Just then, we heard a dad behind us screaming at the cast member we had just talked to. He yelled and belittled, “you are going to ruin the trip for our son, the trip that we saved for over a year to make happen!”
My husband leaned over, shaking his head and whispered in my ear, “the happiest place on earth…” The irony was glaring as we stood among parents and kids. I felt simultaneously so sad and tremendous pity for both the cast member, the family involved and anger at the way this dad had acted. The thought struck me even then, how families were banking on these experiences to find that elusive “family joy,” for themselves and their kids.
It is a billion dollar per year industry that Disney has mastered. The costs are currently rising and analysts continue to discuss how “it doesn’t really change because people continue to pay for it.” Why? Because the Disney Imagineers and marketing division tap flawlessly into that root of hope in all of us: the desire for connection, memories, joy and family.
There are more than Disney, however, who know that pathway. It is written on literal signs in many gift shops, quotes about family, wall art and jewelry; Hallmark movies with plot-lines of love, family and the proverbial happy ending. I AM NOT criticizing ANY of those, not even a little. I have simply talked with many people about the the many ways humans cope with the longing we all feel to have meaningful connection with family.
I am finding myself wrestling with that very connection while engaging in this next stage with our daughter. I know her drivers’ license says she is nearly an adult in the last days of her junior year in high school. But when I look at her, I sometimes remember her childhood before I see her as an adult. We go on college visits, have many discussions about her future. And my mama heart is at the same time squeezed with pain that we’ve somehow arrived HERE, where she goes forward without me in her day to day. AND, I am so very proud and excited for and WITH her. BOTH. AND…I want desperately to support, stand beside her in her next chapter, and, I want to hold her tight and never let go. We have spent years, protecting, knowing, caring, teaching, giving, crying and loving our kids completely then, in a blink, we are faced with finding a way to release them…
It is both foreign to me and if I am honest, a bit unfathomable, and, it is also healthy, normal and right. I know both inside my mind and my heart, truly. I am just really not sure HOW to do it, for her or me….I also know it will all unfold as it should, somehow…
These are the truths about family that I’ve been pondering in these both/and days…
I am grieving with you if you have been abused or hurt in any way. Please don’t hesitate to seek help, find support and love for yourself. Your life, efforts and pain are not invisible to the God of Heaven. I cannot explain or even understand the life experiences on this Earth. There is so much I want to talk with my Jesus about, in his time. But in the meantime, I can only offer hope and the belief that everyone is important and deserving of love, connection and adoration. I pray that you are able to keep believing, trying and hoping.
Brene Brown writes, “We will practice courage in our family by showing up, letting ourselves be seen and honoring vulnerability. We will share our stories of struggles and strength. There will always be room in our home for both.”
However family is for you, I pray you are connected and brave in the beautiful and the hard, this side of Eden. I pray for the courage and authenticity, to grieve and cry with one another, to be real and seen, enjoy laughter and hope. I pray we can establish boundaries as needed, trust ourselves in the joy and the pain, and I pray that as life continues to change, in phases and seasons, that we can love like Jesus. I have hope in being real and calling out perfectionism (kindly) within ourselves. And I don’t want to miss a moment of all of it, the moments when I or they are at the end of ourselves, unable to use words, or the moments that feel almost perfect and nearly every moment in between. In the loving always and the letting go, the searching and the finding, without a doubt, God seeks, holds and calls you his own. He is love, light, belonging and so much hope. Family…the one we all seek and the one we need.
