Tag Archive for: grief and loss

World Cerebral Palsy Day, 2024

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I find myself in a strange, yet lovely and new spot as I age. I am far more accepting of myself, the roles that I am called to, the ways these change like the tide and the ways they are beautifully and achingly the same. My role as “mom,” is ever-changing as my kids also age. With my oldest in college this year, my 17 year old son on the very brink of adulthood and my 13 year old daughter changing before my eyes, I would be remiss if I didn’t take an honest look at how I am changing as well…

They don’t need me the same ways they always have; they need me in different ways now. (By the way, THIS change is also wrought with both/and, the grief of changing family dynamics and the exhilarating moments of growth.)

Yes, I MUST acknowledge both/and as our family shifts a bit…otherwise, I forfeit the beauty and right-ness of God’s plans for all of our lives, rather than becoming bitter, fearful and sad at all the independence and therefore, change, that plays out in every moment of every day in our family.

There are other changes too…

I have been working for two full years with EMDR International (EMDRIA) to become a certified EMDR clinician, which will reach completion this week. Just as quickly, I will begin the process of becoming an approved consultant with this ground-breaking organization. As I look at the next chapter of this career I love dearly, I am focused on bringing continued perspective and growth to brave clients as well as assisting other therapists who also care deeply about complex trauma and the healing work of EMDR.

I am a part The Fred Rogers Educator’s Neighborhood for the next year as well. I am very honored to have been accepted by Fred Rogers Institute for this year long study. Along with a group of others who have been impacted by Mr. Rogers, we are together learning  how to utilize Mr. Rogers’ wealth of knowledge, study and perspective in many areas of child, family and  professional development. Though we have met only twice, I am so thankful to rub shoulders with others in the world who genuinely believe, like Mr. Rogers, that kindness really does change us all. And heavens, don’t we all need more kindness in the world?

As there always is in life, there are difficult adjustments too: this week, two significant deaths in our world. Though I specialize in grief and loss, it is still very personal when it happens to you or in your very personal corner of the world. Losses bring us to the opportunity (I say this so gently,) to look back, to grieve again or in new ways and to use losses to inform how we want to LIVE going forward.

There are new and enduring friendships, growth in so many areas as we have recently come home, again to the church that played such an important part of my life from age 14 – 24. God has stretched, challenged and blessed our family in profound ways in the process of leaving our former church, grief like I have never known in that process and the faithfulness of finding a new church community. It is both the biggest blessing to be cared for, to be vulnerable and to love and care for others in this new and not new church home.

Finally, there is the both/and as World Cerebral Palsy Day was observed on October 6, 2024.

It is a heart-wrenching thing, this part of my identity that I so wish wasn’t AND after many years of grappling with what it means for and about me, to find pride, hope and love for myself and fellow CP warriors. It is so holy to see, validate and celebrate the bad-ass-ness (I made that up, can you tell?) that comes with living with and caring for those with this disability. This week, a friend finally got to bring her son (who has CP) home from at least a month’s stay in the hospital for complications with seizures and other physical issues. I am stunned by her son’s (and her own) positive attitude after so much. For as much shame as I have carried and overcome in my lifetime around my own diagnosis with CP, it is gift to be able to smile and be proud on World CP Day.

Here’s the thing…God is not, will not and has never been surprised at the ways he created us, the things we do need to go manage here, apart from heaven and how we are limited in our humanity in the midst of these things. He IS with us, even if it feels like he absolutely IS NOT. Deuteronomy 31:8 says, ” The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.”

Ohhhh, that’s such a hard one, isn’t it? We are so human in that feeling that says, “why does God put me through this? He COULD change _________________…..”

I hear it multiple times a day and my own reaction is understanding the question AND compassion. What I hear in that phrase, I immediately  think, “oh, he is NOT, putting you through it; he is holding you, as he himself hurts that this is happening too.”

I do not understand all the mystery that surrounds the what’s, how’s and whys that surround God and his sovereignty. I have been there too, crying in rage, frustration and desperation. I have also come to a place where there is more peace in releasing the whys to God’s care and fully trusting him anyway…

I suppose that is how, after many years, many feelings, many experiences and many prayers, I can joyfully put on my green World CP day t-shirt, raise a “cheers,” to my fellow bad-asses, and hold space for that rather than the negative.

I am curious, how are you experiencing change in this season? Maybe we can hold each up, give more care to ourselves and others and float on these crazy waves of change rather than fight them…

God, who is in it all, through it all and who holds it all together: Thank you for understanding our limits, frustration and even anger when things aren’t changing for the good. Thank you being near, always. May we seek your understanding, your heart and greater trust in your love and goodness. May we see ourselves and each other with your vision, compassion and desire for whole-ness. May we know love and joy as only you can give.

xoxo

Both/And

Deuteronomy 31:8

Angst, agony, excitement and hope…

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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/and AND 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

Being With….

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(For JKB, EGM and all who need a reminder)

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.

https://youtu.be/Whm_-aL9HmI?si=5Ii-K-NYfiyQaD0v

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.”

xoxo

Both/And

Psalm 13

What Disney has taught me about traumatic loss…

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(Disney Part 2.)

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:

  1. 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!)
  2. God created us with the ability to persevere, because he is WITH US. (Not just in the good, but in the unthinkably hard.)
  3. 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…
  4. “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
  5. 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…
  6. 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

What we can learn from Ariel, Ursula, shipwrecks, grief and Jesus.

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(Part 1 – Disney series)

Can I start very candidly?

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.

  1. Don’t be afraid to be a “help.” Be safe, yes, but also quick to assist as needs arise.
  2. 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.
  3. 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.”
  4. Following your heart in the moment may bring more trouble than “a dream come true.” (and we all want “the dream come true.”
  5. 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

Leaving: saturation, great gratitude and wonder…

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Washington DC/Pennsylvania (Part 7)

“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” AA Milne, as heard from Winnie the Pooh.

Have you ever been to a place that seeps into your being, because of both the place and the people and the experience with them? THAT was Washington for all of us, low expectations because we were just excited to go, the gift of time was the only expectation and then we could be blow away by the goodness. THAT WAS OUR WHOLE WEEK and THAT was also the hard goodbye. None of us will ever forget the blessings…and it was time to head home.

We packed up and left out of our beautiful condo in Alexandria in order to visit the Fred Rogers Institute on the campus of St Vincent’s College on the way home.

My family was more than grace-giving during this trip. I have wanted to visit the exhibit for years and as it turned out, they were closed on our way here. It was a given, amongst my kids and husband that we “go on the way back.” I could’ve begged or even “guilted” them a bit if need be, but here’s the thing…my sweet husband and kids were so excited to go, WITH ME. They explained how they KNEW how important is to me and they WANTED to share in that. I don’t know how it is with you and your spouse and kids, but that moment of “wanting to WITH ME,” blessed me beyond my wildest dreams. I didn’t have to drag them, guilt or beg them or feel guilty myself that my wanting to go was something to be endured. They gave me the gift of being excited with and for me….

Isn’t this so like Jesus?

In all the trillions of gifts he provides to each of us, he does so just BECAUSE HE LOVES US. I do not believe it is always the physical things, though I wonder if he loves our delight in some of those, much like I absolutely delight in my kids delight when we find a gift that truly blesses them and awakens THEIR delight. My friend Ross is a “car guy,” his words. I believe whole-heartedly, that God LOVES Ross’s interest and “love” for all things car related,” though God himself really has no need for “cars.” My friend Rachel, makes THE BEST chocolate cake! For others, it is a deep, deep love of animals, others sew; for still others perhaps reading, writing, crafting, hunting, antiquing, gardening, traveling, making music, hiking…the list could go forever. I believe, the joy I experience as a parent by delighting my kids in all sorts of ways, is in the image of our magnificent creator who can and DOES bless ALL of US in so, so many ways. I think he then just wants our loving hearts to pour back into HIM.

THAT is the picture my family gave to me as we sought out the hidden gem that is the Fred Rogers Institute. They were just WITH me in my joy, wonder and gratitude for the life and work of Mr. Rogers.

They were excited with me as we found the building, tucked into a corner of a small college in Pennsylvaina. We entered on the bottom floor, a quiet, quiet, space that left us wondering for just a minute if we were indeed in the right place. While I took a quick potty break, my family began exploring…

“Mama, come here!” I heard my youngest daughter squeal/whisper. I rounded the corner toward her voice. S stood on her tip-toes, hugging a dinosaur that was painted in great detail, with all things, Mr. Rogers neighborhood. A lump caught in my throat as I looked at Trolley, King Friday XIII, Queen Sarah, Henrietta Pussycat, X the Owl, Lady Elaine Fairchilde, Daniel Tiger, and Grandpere. Each was depicted in beautiful detail along with Fred Rogers. I have watched and read everything I can and had previously seen this dinosaur somewhere on YouTube. It was the first of many sights sights on display here at the Institute that was better when seen in person.

“Mom, come here!” My oldest daughter called from behind another wall. I hugged the youngest who still held tight to the dino’s neck, then made my way to my sweet oldest. She smiled broadly at me, pointing to a plexiglass window in the wall below the words, “Mr. Rogers archive.” I peered in the window and drew in another breath. There, was THE castle from the land of make-believe! It was surrounded by other props, pictures, boxes labeled, “Fan mail,” other boxes with what looked to be clothing and accolades, including a huge framed “Forever stamp” of Mr. Rogers and King Friday XIII that was released by the USPS in March 2018. It was especially poignant because Mr. Rogers answered as many fan letters as he could and his wife said that he would love knowing there was a stamp made in his honor.

I stood at that window, looking around at Mr. Rogers legacy, so much more to come…I thought about the people committed to his belief, work and calling. How many had touched these very items, spent time with this man who just exuded good. How fitting and beautiful that God would allow that legacy to continue, here, on a small college campus…

We made our way to the second floor…

“Mom, look!” My son pointed across the stairway, where a huge picture of a smiling Mr. Rogers and another of my favorite quotes, welcoming visitors into the story of legacy.

I melted, a lot; for many reasons.

Mr. Rogers is NOT an idol to me…he is NOT Jesus. He was NOT perfect in his earthly life. He WAS driven to provide hope, truth and kindness to all. He laughed, worked, played, prayed and lived how I know the same Jesus desires me to attempt to live to. My admiration has everything to do with a connection to my own values about life, relationships, authenticity, empathy and how we treat ourselves and others. Talk less, care more. Listen, always. Be Yourself, feel your feelings. Let your life and value of others speak about who and how Jesus is.

To be here after so much study, full gratitude for this example of a life well-lived was SUCH a gift. And to be so loved by my gift of a family brought me to tears. But the best? The best moment was this: my nearly adult child, hugging me before I got to the entrance. She could see I was a bit overwhelmed, looking around, trying to take pictures and slowly take it all in. NOT, a both/and, I’m afraid.

“Mama, go wander, I will get the pictures.” She squeezed me tight.

Tears, already just below the surface, sprang to my eyes for an entirely different reason. “Babe, are you sure?” She squeezed me again and shook her head. “I will get it all, Mom. You just go look around.” She began taking pictures methodically with her phone. I stood for a moment, trying to figure out how I’d been given the gift of being “theirs.” Then smiling, I peered into a glass case and began to read letters, diplomas and accolades given to Mr. Rogers.

Pictures, memories, facts; guests of the show, props and then, the puppets! They looked so well loved and used. They were so familiar to me, both from my own growing up and from the many books, videos and documentaries I’ve watched. Lady Elaine Fairchilde, who is said to have borne a striking resemblance to his real-life sister, Nancy Crozier. Daniel who was in reality, Fred’s alter-ego, the closest personality in all the puppets to Fred’s own. Daniel, who is now, in new ways, teaching new generations of kids, parents and adults about feelings too. King Friday represented Fred’s authoritarian side, his sons even commented how if there was an issue at home, it was King Friday who spoke with the kids. Queen Sara was Joanne Rogers and the rest, all characters of Fred’s mind, all to teach children (and adults, secondarily) how to feel, cope, adapt, communicate and regulate.

I turned, the trolley behind me. I vividly remember the twinkle of the Trolley’s bells, the entrance of the Land of Make-Believe and scenes with the puppets. I remember the stop light, a video of the Crayola Factory, the aquarium. I remember the songs, the sweaters and shoes….

Mostly, I remember the tone of Mr. Rogers voice, the peace in his eyes and smile and how I felt like he spoke right to me. That was long before I came upon the documentary on a snowy Sunday (see previous post, 143). The impressions he left on so many of were just that way, a feeling, a sense that he cared. It is why, though so many will tease, mock or question his goodness, many, many more around the world recall a similar feeling to my own – acceptance and love. If you KNOW he loved the Lord, then you can connect the feeling to Jesus. But I believe many who may not know Jesus personally may have experienced HIS love and grace through Mr. Rogers own demeanor.

As I looked closely at the Trolley, I noticed my youngest, sitting “crisscross, applesauce” in front of a tv that was playing an episode of Mr. Rogers Neighborhood. She was entranced! She told me later about ‘getting shots – learning about “being brave” from that episode. It was a joy to see her face, becoming familiar with his beloved Neighborhood. As I turned back to Trolley, my eyes settled on another clear plexiglass box with 4 sweaters in it, red, cream, green and purple. Another pair of his blue Sperry shoes sat on the floor of the box, just below the hand-knitted sweaters.

In my work with complex bereavement, items of clothing may take on extra meaning following a loss, whether complex or singular loss. Many times, a memorable piece of clothing becomes a transitional object and/or treasured representation of our loved one: a flannel shirt that Grandpa wore consistently, a shirt from Dad or Mom, a sweatshirt from a friend or sibling or even the shorts from a cousin that remind us of a loving free spirit. I have had the privilege of hearing and feeling the stories and the fabrics that belonged to a loved one that was made into a quilt, pillow or even teddy bear. It is powerful to hold, touch or even see the clothes that belonged to one so dear to us.

Though I never had the opportunity to meet Mr. Rogers in person, seeing those sweaters, this time VERY up close, felt like a visceral reminder of his life and personhood. I am sure I am not the only one who put my hand up to the box, whispered a prayer of thankfulness and nearly “felt” those beautiful sweaters.

Mr. Rogers, in his Lifetime Achievement Award speech (1997)

“All of us have special ones who have loved us into being.

Would you just take along with me 10 seconds to think of the people who have helped you become who you are — those who have cared about you and wanted what was best for you in life?

Ten seconds of silence.

I’ll watch the time.”

I wonder who that is for you…

I wonder when you think of the person you admire, or the ones who have wanted all the good for you, who comes to mind?

When I had soaked up every photo, fact and memory possible, I rounded up my sweet family for a few photos, thanked them profusely and we wandered back to the car. On the way out, two women wearing Mr. Rogers Institute t-shirts emerged from the office. My body contracted as we made eye-contact and I was immediately frustrated. It was as if the representation of Fred in these women turned me a bit tongue-tied. I tried to thank them for their work, explain what it meant to me, but really felt embarrassed and red-faced at my reaction. We said goodbye, I tried to whisper kind words to myself and then went on a hunt to find the campus bookstore, thinking their must be some memorabilia there that I needed.

Daughter and I went in, emerged with another book, a wooden version of Trolley and full hearts. I couldn’t ask for one bit more….

The ride home was bittersweet, filled with recalling experiences that were already memories, silly jokes, moments of surprise, some sad, some poignant and beautiful, all drenched and dripping with thankfulness.

I will hold it all dearly, trying to ever be aware of the world God has made that is so much more than my little corner. I will stretch, remember, advocate and attempt to see with the lens of awe how many people, both historically, in the present and the future who God has created and loves. I will look with wonder, humor and joy at architecture, entertainment. And I will hold with reverence the ways that honor, dedication and perseverance comes from the Lord himself. I hope to appreciate both nature and created things, the things I can’t comprehend and the things that just fill me because JESUS LOVES ME.

“ Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” James 1:17

Until next time, DC, Pennsylvania and Virginia. We can’t come back soon enough….

Both/And

xoxo

“You have solid steel I-Beams, Stace.”

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“Mom, they are going to demolish that building soon.” My son told me as we drove through town.

“Yeah?” We were talking about the former municipal power plant building, much of which was already demolished.

“Yes, they are getting the explosives set on the beams. The I-beams are the only thing left.”

My brain raced back to the sweetest of memories as I glanced at the big building.

“You have solid steel I-beams, Stace.”

Do I? Is he talking about me?

I held the phone, tears in my eyes and a hopeful breath caught in my throat. My friend and mentor, Jim, had offered a defining word of encouragement that would shape my journey from age 29 on…

I suppose to really explain the importance and beauty in those words, I have to go backwards before I go forward. This is often something I explain to clients in the beginning of counseling (and remind often during counseling).

It was the first day of my sophomore second semester at Hope College. The pressure to declare my major was looming larger each day and it was nerve-wracking to figure out what I was going to do with the rest of my life. I had moved back into Gilmore Hall a few days before; it was snowy and cold, which matched my feelings of overwhelmed and lost. Initially, I wanted to be an English major, writing was always my favorite part of classes. I kept getting asked what kind of career that would give me and I honestly did not know….

 I had explored so many different career and major options but for a multitude of reasons, none seemed to fit. I could not settle on any of them.  My dad always encouraged, “have a job that you love going to, you will spend a lot of time there.” Both he and my mom had careers they loved and it set a strong example for me. They both worked so hard, lots of long hours as a physical therapist and a nurse (and her side hustle as an antique dealer.) At dinner, they always had good antidotes about their days, from his inspiring patients and the bartering and re-selling antiques to also the sweet (or funny) parts of her day as a nurse in a pediatrician’s office.

They have both lived what it means to love the career you choose and are given as a calling.

That pressure, to find my path, was mounting and the more worried I got, the more confused I became as well.

That January morning, I trudged through the snow on campus, cursing Michigan for this snow. It seemed to match the feeling in my body (what I would later learn is fight, flight or freeze). I was panicking about my future; it was cold and my anxiety was spiking. Trying to pay in class was going to AWESOME. I’m not even sure I remembered which class I was trudging to…

It didn’t help that my class that morning was located in Graves Hall, a building on campus that was old and original to when and how it was built. In other words, outdated, dark and seemed to have a musty, dusty smell to match. (Kind of similar to the fabricated smell of the Haunted Mansion, just not near as fun to be in.) No offense to my Alma Mater, by the way. Simply the way I experienced it, 30 years ago. Graves has since been renovated!

There was a bigger room in Graves, where student life usually showed semi-new releases for students on weekends. It had old fold-down seats with velvet cushions, once decadent and now aged.

I settled in, pushing down the adrenaline that came from walking in the snow and fear of icy sidewalks on the way to class and pushed my ever-present, “what am I doing with my life?” fear even further down.

“Hi there, so glad you are all here.”

I looked up and saw a warm, familiar smile. Jim (Dr. P on campus), was both a neighbor of my family AND a former fraternity brother of my dad. Even when I ran into him near home, he was always kind, happy and genuine in his “good to see you.” I could feel my heart, body and anxiety settle a bit, just in his greeting. I had also forgotten that he taught this “Intro to Social Work” class.

He began describing both the goals of the class and the history of social work. For the life of me, I wish I could remember the next few sentences, but I cannot. All I know is that it was in those few sentences, God made himself and my path abundantly clear. I think it was something like, “If you have a heart for caring for people, listening and helping problem solve, this is the path for you.”

I sat riveted on Jim’s passion for this field, the joy and humor in his voice, suddenly feeling the pressure dissipate.

I often ask friends and clients how they KNOW when God is guiding them. “When have you known without a SINGLE doubt, this is the path God has for you?”

Usually the answer is, “I don’t know, I just know.” For some who might not know Jesus, perhaps this is your conscience or a gut feeling. For others, this could be related to having an intimate relationship with Jesus, being guided by the Holy Spirt.

For me, this moment was without doubt, one of the places I did and still return to if I am struggling to make a decision or have difficulty deciphering “next steps.” I cannot tell you how or why, but I know with absolute certainty that I heard Jesus gently whispering next to me, “THIS is the path for you. THIS is exactly where I want you.” That fear that had been mounting since my junior year in high school, quickly began exciting my body, like a balloon that suddenly begins to leak and lose air. It was replaced just that quickly with a sort of scary excitement as Jim described the many areas in which a social work degree could be used in a career.

I realize that this paragraph might sounds like a nice story or argument to trust Jesus but it is all my truth. I know that deciphering God’s will is not that easy all the time, but for me, even when it is not entirely clear, it is more than enough….

I declared my social work major a few weeks later and the path since has been not always easy, but always completely RIGHT. I often tell clients, “The right thing is rarely the easy thing.”

About 3 weeks later, on Saturday, January 23, 1993, I awoke to a knock on our dorm room door. A family friend stood there and I was so confused. I loved her, but could not for the life of me, figure out what she was doing in my dorm hallway, knocking on the door, on a snowy Saturday morning.

“Stacy, I am so sorry, your grandma died this morning.”

My Gram’s death and all it taught me is certainly a post for the future. But
I’ll leave it here for today just knowing that I was one person before I answered that door and another entirely after dear Ardys uttered those words.

The following days and weeks were some of the most confusing, life-changing and difficult I had up to that point in my life. And God absolutely began shaping me in those very days to become a therapist specializing in grief and loss.

I moved in a fog, feeling so heartbroken and disorientated that I did not know which end was up. I sat in my writing class and my professor asked if I was alright. I was anything but…I couldn’t stop crying, aching or simply feeling shocked.

One day, not even really knowing how or why, I found myself wandering toward Jim’s office. He welcomed me into the sunny space that was filled floor to ceiling with books. Heavenly. There was a path to his chair and one other comfy chair that I gratefully sunk into, then noticed being surrounded by piles of papers; I spied a notorious “blue exam booklet” (Did other colleges besides Hope use those?) on top of a pile here, manila folders there. I instantly felt welcomed and safe, even though I truthfully felt like a complete wreck.

I don’t know what I said (again), or what he said, other than the fact that he reassured me that I wasn’t crazy, I wasn’t going to flunk out of college, and that I would, indeed, someday stop crying. It was all going to be ok, somehow. I could believe him a tiny bit, a miniscule beam of light in that dark season of my soul.

Jim was an absolute anchor in the storm and I experienced the care of Jesus many, many times over in the course of our friendship. I visited him many times that semester, as well as many the following two years. I did indeed graduate with my BSW. We stayed in touch during my first job. 5 years later I applied and got accepted into grad school and as God led me closer and closer to becoming a therapist. He was affirming in my professional skills, as well as becoming a trusted role model for my own internal struggles. Which was why, when the bottom fell out of my life again, the week after I started graduate school, he was amongst the first phone calls I made.

Someone dear to me was killed violently and tragically as he drove home from his job as an EMT in the middle of the night. The driver, her passenger (her sister) and my friend were all killed instantly as the girls were both many times over the legal drinking limit.

In this, another, life-changing moment, my foundation shook and crumbled. I had family support, friends who did their very best to understand and yet, I was floundering, triggered once again. I often tell clients,  Grief brings up grief.

 One of my favorite analogies comes from Disney’s original animated version of The Little Mermaid (1989). Do you remember how Ursula grows gigantic quickly and begins stirring up the sea with King Triton’s glowing Trident? The old shipwrecks begin to resurface from the ocean’s floor. I often tell people that “Big Ursula “can feel like our present grief and all the “shipwrecks” can be past grief experiences that resurface in connection with the new, present grief. While the analogy is my own, if it weren’t for Jim, I would not have been able to move through both of those searing losses and have an understanding to draw on when counseling in the future. He spent many hours listening, normalizing and teaching me about grief, it’s affects, the need for self-care and affirming my ability to work through it, WHILE going to graduate school.

It was Jim, who with the wisdom of a dad, said to me one night on the phone, “You have solid steel I-beams, Stace. You are so strong in your desire to understand, work through and be healthy.”

That is how I felt about myself, that I wanted to understand, to find my way through this scary forest (many forests for all of us) and come out with better understanding, peace and the ability to help others because I had people who helped me.

In his kind affirmation, he praised WHO I was, HOW I was and gave me much-needed belief in myself.

I remember vividly, sitting on the floor, tears streaming as he uttered that life-changing-truth to me. I can feel how I wanted to rise to that, to see it for myself. I can feel the gift of being known by this mentor and friend and I am ever thankful.

I wonder who it is for you, that speaks absolute acceptance and life into you. Who is your person, who sees you as you want to be, who accepts who you are now, but cheers you on to who you will become?

I know we don’t have just one….there are many who add to our lives, each has their place. But don’t we all have a couple who come into our lives, help us see our own strength and change us for the good?

Mr. Rogers, in his acceptance of a Lifetime Achievement award, said (in part) to an audience of Hollywood elite:

Oh, it’s a beautiful night in this neighborhood.

So many people have helped me to come to this night. Some of you are here. Some are far away. Some are even in heaven.

All of us have special ones who have loved us into being.

Would you just take along with me 10 seconds to think of the people who have helped you become who you are — those who have cared about you and wanted what was best for you in life?

Ten seconds of silence.

I’ll watch the time.

[silence observed]

Whomever you’ve been thinking about — how pleased they must be to know the difference you feel they’ve made.

Jim is still the dearest of friends and mentors. We don’t talk often, but when we do, we pick up just where we left off. We share photos and details of life in the present and he without fail, he encourages me. The blessing of being known is without compare.

He is but one who has shaped me and been an important part of the tapestry of this life, both personal and professional. He is an important one for me in this 28-year career, one who I still draw from today in my work and value.

I pray that you too, have many, who come to mind who have believed in and loved you. It is one of my biggest hopes and prayers, that we can feel and give that care and love to ourselves and others. If you have a “Jim,” or Neen, Tom, Jill, Rick or Susan, whoever it is that speaks love and affirmation in your life, today is good day to tell them. You never know if today is the day that your encouragement will bless your person in return.

I pray we can all claim our own “I beams,” or the truth others help us to see about ourselves. That is so much of the journey. Be proud and even a little excited at what it has taken for you to keep going on your journey. It is nothing short of miraculous.

To that end, if you look in the shirt shop, you will find an option to support kidney disease awareness. I have a dear acquaintance who shows me daily what it means to be born with a steel I beam. I made the “I would go anywhere as long as its not dialysis” in her honor. All proceeds from the sale of this shirt will be donated at the end of December.

 God is good, all the time. Thank you, Jesus, for each and every one of the people you place on our journey to show us how you love. I am profoundly grateful.

Both/And

Phil 1:3-5

Sometimes, it is good to howl….

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(Oh my heart…be brave my soul.)

“I can feel something welling up, deep in the pit of my stomach, a clenching I don’t have a name for. I have spent too many days, NOT caring for myself, AGAIN. Between family needs, schedules and even the joy, I have yet again, put my own needs on the back burner. As the days blur together, I can feel something building up inside me, something between anger, exhaustion and sheer overwhelming emptiness….”

“I don’t know the point in saying, “I am angry. Of course I am angry! It is endless. But it won’t change…I need to just get over it. Except, I can’t stop thinking about it, even when I say to myself, I am over it. I don’t understand it….”

“I will never be able to stop crying if I let myself start, it is too big, too painful. I will never stop. I just need to keep busy, keep going and keep working.”

“It was such a long time ago, it doesn’t matter anymore, right? I thought that if I just ignored the pain of what happened to me, I would forget. But I haven’t, I can’t. still, this many years later, when I close my eyes I can see and feel it all just like it is happening right now. I don’t know what to do anymore…..”

These sentiments are just a tiny glimpse into the daily life of brave clients…if these walls could speak, there is so much more.

Oh my heart….be brave my soul.

In this career I hold dear…(and maybe not just my career, but this very life), God has let me witness both so much tragedy and so much profound beauty. I don’t think I can truly describe it adequately.

Professionally, It came first in the form of children at my first internship when I supervised visitation between kids who had been removed from their parents care for a multitude of reasons. Even when the reasons for removal seemed the most legitimate, the kids AND the parents were doing their brave best in the most heart-wrenching situations.

Sometimes, all we can do is howl….

When I got my first job out of my undergrad, I began working with teens in a grassroots relational ministry. I was young, idealistic and introduced to the joy and heartache of life in ministry, earning the right to be heard while supporting teens and families in about every possible scenario over the course of 7 years. Standing with teens at a visitation of one of their beloved friends as they tearfully asked me, “what does she look like in that casket?” The gleaming dark wood casket was closed and raised up on the the opposite end of the funeral home. The kids moved slowly together, a dazed look, shock and pain raw, unable to wrap their minds around the sudden, tragic loss they were instantly thrust into.

Sometimes, you can’t do anything but howl…

I began my MSW program and came to understand the concept of family systems differently than ever before. I lost a dear friend one week after my program began and over the next year, learned what grief truly was. It was one of the hardest, growth years of my life. The the next year, after a lot of soul searching, prayer and the uncomfortable feeling of the right thing not always being the easiest thing, I began an internship at Hospice. I was changed in every single way, the holiness and tenderness of this calling – from my supervisor who taught me about peace and hope through her life, how to care for clients through her expertise and authenticity and boundaries through her intentional approach to nearly everything.

An unforgettable client taught us all about living while she was dying, gave us unique and needed perspective as we were stunned, huddling around TVs on my first day there, 9/11/2001. She sat on her small deck that morning, overlooking a pond, waiting for the temperature to rise enough to release the butterflies she had watched over from being caterpillars to beautiful, painted ladies. I will never forget her calm demeanor talking about war, global events and life experiences she’d lived through. She was sad, but not stunned as we watched the Twin Towers fall. She described “other, difficult things, saying, this too, shall pass.” Somehow, I believed her, even on this day.

Oh, my heart…be brave my soul.

I began my second internship at a counseling center, learning about resistance, court-mandated clients and how to let clients own their own problems and outcomes. My heart broke, while sitting face to face with a parent whose child had been removed after the child was hospitalized with a broken arm. The parent was “sure I haven’t done anything wrong.” I was distraught, faced with providing positive, unconditional regard and feeling this childs pain. I was also pregnant with my first child.

I sat across from many during those 6 years, learning as much in the pain as I did in the growth and change. I became a clinician, who has still, so much to learn. I learned to trust myself more, that many things will not be fixed or even made better. Sometimes, all I could do was witness a client’s painful truth and the difficulty it requires to exact lasting change. A boy who’d been in countless foster homes had such a difficult time coming, being vulnerable. Week after week, I asked my supervisor “how to help him.” She reminded me that often counseling takes a long time, which could mean years and most likely, I would not be the one to see it. She gave me the analogy of how one therapist might plant seeds, another watering the same seeds and another, seeing a flower bloom. At the time, I really wanted to be that person to reach my client (I wasn’t), but I have held that analogy close for many years.

I vacillated while becoming a mom of 3, between Hospice work and agency counseling. I met a widowed parent raising multiple teens who had “hoped it would all go away after the funeral.” Two years later, it still hadn’t and we needed to go back before going forward. We went through.

Another parent, in a moment, had to navigate shock, selflessness and courage while shifting very quickly into complex, traumatic grief and loss.

Sometimes, all we can do is howl….

In my life, outside of my career, I experience inspiration through everyone I meet…A young boy named Bill whose smile lit up a room; how he bravely fought a brutal, debilitating disease and his family showed me the meaning of grace in their care for him. Em, allowed me into some of her most vulnerable days and thoughts, taught me that CP was NOT all there was to me and the meaning of “rising above.” Les, who has for over 25 years inspired me by being the very definition of tenacity, fearlessness, loyalty and love. She and her spirited friend, Monica taught me sacrifice and the horror of gun violence in front of my eyes – so much worse than it seems in the movies. Mason and his beloved family, lesson after lesson in beauty, sacrifice and the love of Jesus. J and J, P and T who live out the redemption of dreams deferred and God’s sovereignty unfolding. My dear friend Shelly who teaches me more about the sacrifice of motherhood than I can comprehend. This list is not even the beginning…and there are so many, too many to list.

oh my heart…

In all the journeys, the pain, the beautiful and the in-between, I’ve learned this: the only way through, is through.

We used to read Going on a Bear Hunt to our kids, at least 55 times a day when they were little, until all 5 of us had it memorized.

“You can’t go over it…you can’t go under it, you have to go THROUGH it!” We would yell that refrain! It became a metaphor for both hard things in our family and in my clinical work. I even bought a small board book of Helen Oxenbury’s version and set it on the table for clients. It never failed to evoke an moment of understanding or even tears sometimes as the message became real.

Be brave my soul….

Psalm 13 (my very favorite and an amazing biblical both/and) says:

1 How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?
    How long will you hide your face from me?
2 How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
    and day after day have sorrow in my heart?
    How long will my enemy triumph over me?

3 Look on me and answer, Lord my God.
    Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death,
4 and my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,”
    and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

5 But I trust in your unfailing love;
    my heart rejoices in your salvation.
6 I will sing the Lord’s praise,
    for he has been good to me.

Both the heartache and the praise, fear and trust. Yes, Lord God, be in, both, with and for us. Loss and hope, agony and trying to find something akin to joy. This is real and true, the purpose in the calling, at least for me. As I teach it in my work, learn it for myself and pray for the grace and mercy we all need, I also know this: holding the both/and is the truest path to peace I have ever come to. Because I know God understands AND loves me in both.

May we take care of ourselves: take a walk, call mom (or dad,) attend a class and learn new skills. Seek counseling. Breathe deep, smell the flowers, blow out the candles. Pray or meditate. Walk slowly, speak only kind words to ourselves. Lean into our people, the ones who know and love the authentic versions of us. And may we allow ourselves to go through.

“Crying releases stress hormones, swearing increases pain tolerance. Anger motivates us to solve problems. Silence and smiles aren’t the only way to respond to pain. Sometimes its good to howl.” Anonymous

I often close sessions with “be kind to yourself” and full disclosure, how my own therapist closes with me. Sometimes, I add this – howl if you need to, cry, and rest. Most often, those are the very paths that lead to the best parts of healing.

Both/And

Psalm 13


The smell of coffee, Gram’s Oil of Olay and Tiffany Rose Gold: oh the memories I have…

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I walked in the door and couldn’t help but inhale deeply. The rich, deep, comforting smell of coffee both assaults and eases into every part of my olfactory system. The funny thing is? I don’t even like DRINKING coffee. But my body, heart and mind are instantly comforted with the smell…

Growing up, the coffee pot was always on at our house. I didn’t even think it then, it just was the smell as you entered our house. Similarly, my dad always had the coffee pot on in his physical therapy office and I remember my mom consistently wrinkling her nose about “how strong you make it!” when we stopped in to visit. I simultaneously connected the smell to home, my dad, hospitality (because somehow, when adults were together, coffee was ALWAYS offered) and also the taste being “too strong.”

In my young adult hood I was privileged to spend a lot of time in the home of my mentor with his family. They had three kids and both Rick and Mariann were instrumental in these hard to understand years in my first job (in ministry), both had counseling backgrounds and were very accepting and authentic; a tremendous comfort to me. And anytime I walked into THEIR house, was the smell of coffee.

It had a slightly different aroma than what I grew up (Perhaps Folgers versus a coffee house blend?) but was still, the smell of coffee. The smell had come to mean safety, care and just being heard. And still, the taste left me wrinkling my nose and sputtering. I am actually a tea kind of girl, but that is for another day, another post for sure.

In those early days of ministry, I spent so many afternoon and sometimes evening hours at a new (at the time, to our corner of Michigan) coffee shop called JP’s. I’m not quite sure how I landed there, to be honest, being that I was NOT a coffee drinker…I think it was effort to be the “cool adult” in youth ministry and JP’s was my inroad to the goal. I spent hours tucked in a booth, munching on bagels, tea (for me) and hearing intense, beautiful unforgettable stories in the lives of so many teens. I went home with the smell of JP’s coffee embedded in my clothes, all the way to my skin, their stories, tears, laughter growth embedded just as deeply in my heart and my prayers. The smell of coffee morphed again to mean ministry, prayer, hope and a sense of awe that I got to be the person to listen to every one of those amazing kids.

Do you have one of those smells? One that brings you back to a time or feeling the second it hits your nostrils? Our olfactory receptors—proteins in the nasal passages that bind to odors and relay a signal to the brain, are a big connection to both the good and the really difficult memories sometimes. For some dealing with trauma, it could be the smell of gasoline that brings back the difficult memories of a car accident or the smell of bleach and sterilizer at the vet’s office that brings back the death of a beloved pet. I have for a long time, helped people process both the good and the hard associated with smell.

My beloved Gram ALWAYS wore Oil of Olay – a blush pink bottle with an abstract logo of a very serene woman, sitting front and center on her bathroom counter. In searching for a description of the scent, the best I read was, “White floral scent with almond, wisteria, cinnamon.

Her house had it’s own distinct smell too (like everyone’s): the smell of baking, sunshine and HER. Somehow, her Oil of Olay was blended in there as well. When she died suddenly when I was 19, within a few days, I panicked about “not smelling her house again.” Even then, the connection to smell was so important to me. My mom gave me a small little bottle of her Oil of Olay and for the longest time, in my missing her, I would open the small worn out bottle whose label had all but worn off and feel her standing right next to me.

I have listened to countless stories of people who are making their way through difficult losses and while in a store, library or some other completely random spot, somehow catch a whiff of “their person.” I think it can be a comfort and a painful thing to be transported this way. And unexpected sometimes, I have normalized it probably 550 times throughout my career…

For me, I love also to attach a scent to good memories, much like my Gram’s lotion.

My daughter has a special affinity for Tiffany jewelry but last year, begged for Tiffany Rose Gold perfume. We wandered through Ulta and I can still see her bouncing with excitement as we waded through the perfume aisles and cloud of competing fragrances. She handed me the tester bottle and as I sprayed it on a small strip of paper, the scent was a little unworldly. The ingredients list is blackcurrant, blue rose and Ambrette seed. I could not tell you what any of those look like or smell like individually, but I can tell you that my daughter and I sniffed that paper all afternoon between giggles and shopping. The aroma became a memory of spending time with her.

I did buy it for her for Christmas, she wears it often and as she recently traveled abroad with school for Spring Break, she quietly left the bottle on my counter to find when we returned from the airport. I wore it nearly everyday while she was gone, a way to hold her close.

Now, before the bottle becomes “ours,” I gave hers back and ordered my own.

You may think, this is silly or even have a hard time understanding such a connection to scents. Maybe that is not how it is for you. But I think if we close our eyes and imagine a smell of comfort, I imagine an image, feeling, place or memory comes to mind….

In 1998 the Parent Trap (re-make) was released. There was a scene where one of the twins, Hallie who “traded places” with her sister, Annie, met her grandpa for the first time. Annie had described him down to the mints he kept in a pocket and the pipe tobacco that clung to his clothes. Hallie buried her face in grandpa’s sweater, hugged him and inhaled deeply.

“What are you doing?” Grandpa asked.

“Making a memory.” Replied Hallie , tears in her eyes.

Of all the ways our bodies hold all the things, trauma, joy, memories, pain and relief, the connection to scents is one of my favorites. From the smell of walking into the Magic Kingdom, to the memories of my babies newborn “smell,” the way roses remind me of our wedding day or my mama’s lemon meringue pie, I am so thankful of the simple ways God allows us to remember…

Both…and

Psalm 13