Tag Archive for: Jesus

Like a Handprint on my Heart

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Like many in the world right now, I am captivated by the new movie, WICKED, For Good. But my story with Wicked goes back to May 31, 2006. My oldest daughter was 5 months old. I was learning so much about being a mama, about her and was very much changed for the best reasons.

I had watched the Today show off and on growing up, but was really connected to Katie Couric. My focus as a young therapist was bereavement and her story greatly impacted me. I felt some loss myself that day as her last day at the Today show aired. There was a montage of people who had each been touched by Katie’s presence after enduring something in their own stories that was difficult and life changing. Katie dedicated the performance of For Good to this select group who had also impacted her. I can remember watching that performance with awe, tears and so much emotion. The song put into words my thoughts about so many in my life…

I really didn’t know the story of Wicked at that time, but the song became so important to me. A few months later, a dear friend introduced me to the story in the musical and I’ve never been the same.

Just a bit more background…I was introduced to my first “big musical – Les Misérables,” when I was in high school. Much like my love of reading, I became completely enthralled in the story, the music and the beauty of musicals. I would learn the story and music by heart, often acting out the whole show in fabulous one-woman style. This has been true for my whole life (maybe no longer one woman shows, but my love of theater) and has not changed.

The story of WICKED has so many connections for me and I could write many different pieces and perspectives about what it means to me. (Who knows, perhaps I will?) This perspective though, on the eve of Thanksgiving Day is about how so many have impacted and changed me for good…

On a bike ride the day after my daughter and I watched the latest Wicked movie, I found myself thinking about the lyric, “you’ll be with me, like a handprint on my heart…” My mind had drifted there (in a way that is God given) and I thought about person after person in my life who has stayed with me in many ways. I am blessed with a really good memory, so I found myself praying for so many.

I need to confess that I am not as artistically gifted as my kids. (Perhaps with writing, but drawing, painting, etc? Not so much…) That’s why when I got home, my compulsion to create something with all the thoughts I was having surprised me, A LOT. I chatted with youngest about my ideas. She was up for helping, but had some things to finish first. While I waited for her, I began jotting names on a big piece of butcher block paper.

She came back and we began to create a huge heart, filled with many names, all the while remembering and smiling about so many who’ve deeply impacted us. Oldest daughter arrived home and was enthralled also, quickly joining in with names and artistic abilities. The icing on the cake happened when husband and our son also wandered in to join our project. We sat talking, all five of us, picking from a wide array of colors, and discussing how our lives have been changed for good by so many.

The kids were surprised to see I’d written the names of a couple difficult, significant relationships on our project as well. But as I thought about the “handprints on my heart” over the course of my life, even a few difficult relationships are important. God used even the times that were so painful to help me become where I am now.

I sat looking at the names: Campers who changed my life and perspective from Camp Sunshine, a beloved mentor who impacts my life, still, every day, the bullies who made me tougher and stronger from both elementary and high school, my hospice internship supervisor who still exudes peace, wisdom and strength that continues to amaze me. There are countless names and experiences that I am so profoundly grateful for, that I can’t even put into words: the community we are still learning about in our (new-ish) faith community, our parents and grandparents who have given us so much, including a profound legacy of faith, the family who became another family to me as I babysat for them every weekend for many years. There is the pastor who impacted us during COVID, the kids’ friends, co-workers, so many who’ve gone to heaven that we thankfully will be reunited with. Teachers, we and the kids could NEVER forget and so many others…and our Jesus who covers it all, our redeemer who has the biggest impact on everything, everywhere.

In this Thanksgiving week, know that you have all impacted me, our family and our lives somehow, in a beautiful way. If you happen to be at our house, know that whether your name is on our new drawing (or not because we missed it,) know that indeed, we are made of the many handprints on our hearts that God himself knits together. Thank you for your love, impacting presence, wisdom, joy and even the ways you’ve made me (us) stronger. You are loved.

I would love to interact with you about the handprints on your heart, if you so choose. Please feel free to comment below.

Blessings and thanksgiving to you all,

Both/And

Xoxo

“I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy” (Philippians 1:3-4, NIV

Every moment, a gift.

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I am not entirely sure when I really understood that we are not promised tomorrow or even really the next hour…

It may have been with the death of my beloved Gram. She was there, always there when I needed her. Until the knock on the door, the news that she’d died very suddenly without warning in the night.

Maybe it was going through the many deaths of high school students in my first social work job after Hope College. The loss of Gram gave me empathy for the students I met who grappled with the instant losses of friends, whether through car accidents, unknown illness and other reasons. I understood the shock on their faces, the anger, inability to understand a sudden, mortal reality and the pain of things left undone.

Yes, I really began to understand it then. But on a September night 25 years ago, the reality of our mortality hit me like a tsunami and I’ve never been the same.

A boy I loved, some extremely poor decisions by others and the instant death of 3 people taught me both how very fragile our time on the earth is and how every moment is a gift.

I would be lying if I didn’t acknowledge that my beliefs are also wrapped in the fact that I do not believe in entitlement. We just are not really entitled to anything as we live here. Not our health, our livelihood, our loved ones. I personally am not entitled to walk across a room like everyone else. But that I can walk at all? Well, THAT, like everything else I am given, is a gift.

My breath, my heartbeat, and my health. The sun on my face and the rolling clouds. My marriage and healthy, amazing kids. That I get to learn more about trauma and treating it every day; that I get to hear people’s hardest moments, deepest fears and greatest difficulties? Gifts, along with the moments of change, triumph and peace that come with the hard work of engaging in counseling. That those enduring unimaginable loss tell me that they feel hope? Gifts.

My son strumming Blackbird on his guitar or asking me to go for a ride in the Jeep he rebuilt? My daughter giggling with friends while making cookies or learning a new TikTok Dance? The love of some of the best teachers on the planet? Absolute gifts. Trying on homecoming dresses and having your older sister join the fun just because? A lightning show and pouring down rain? My oldest soaring to new heights as her life continues to unfold. The look on my love’s face, well, anytime? GIFTS. 

You may think I am sappy or really sentimental and emotional…or shake your head with bitterness, “must be nice Stacy.”

Here’s the truth. This perspective for me is the real deal, because I see, hear and experience the hardest moments and absolutely, don’t want to take a moment for granted.

I had a few very hard days this summer when I honestly wasn’t sure if my muscles were going to calm down and stop spasming. I was scared and longed for peace. Thankfully, thanks be to God, they did. But even as I am still re-learning how to walk, I am so grateful for how I came through those days. Even when I am irritated that I am STILL re-learning, I must return to gratitude that my muscles are not hurting at the level of those days, currently.

Though it will sound cliché and a lot like the chorus of an Aerosmith song, I really don’t want to miss a thing. I don’t want to miss a minute of my son’s senior year because there is a drumbeat telling me how fast this time goes. I don’t want to begrudge these hot days (even with, ahem…hot flashes,) because I am all too aware of the cold that will come here in Michigan. The late nights waiting for teens to get home, the moments with aging family members. I don’t have enough time for it all, I can’t be present enough and yet, I don’t want to miss anything about the people God has blessed me with, the life I am given and the moments…that all matter.

Before you think me as that idyllic mom or human, know this. It is not perfect. I expect too much sometimes, lose my shit in other moments and make big mistakes. I say or do the wrong thing, struggle with my own insecurities and get impatient. (We all wish we could miss those moments!)

Yet, the not missing those either is this: I get to be humble, apologize to my sweet family and give them a model of a really human mama. I get to pray with them, ask forgiveness and learn from them. We get to testify to the fact that grace abounds, that God’s grace IS SUFFICIENT and that HE is the giver of every good and perfect gift.

I always dreamed of raising kids in way that these were not just things we said, but instead, the real life reality among us. I am so profoundly grateful that I think we have.

We love people, believe in the good, life-giving presence of Jesus and because of it, every moment truly IS, A GIFT.

I don’t know where life finds you as you read this post. Maybe some roll their eyes and think I am saccharine. Maybe others have met us and see some version of this or DON’T. Maybe my hope and belief in the good makes you angry because, you think it is BS. And still others might wholeheartedly agree.

Whichever it is, or maybe another altogether, I want you to know, I think you are a gift. I pray you see, feel and know how important you are to others and to GOD himself. I pray you experience gifts every moment, the blessings and love of others, the sovereignty of Jesus and the hope of all that is yet to come.

I think I hear Aerosmith playing in the background….

Both/And

XOXO

Starting to remember…

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If you read my last post, you already know that there was some serious both/and going on for me last week, with Jesus, with living with CP and with the work I get to do with clients. I have a pretty cool follow up to share…

With all my wrestling last week, reading the book of Mark again (different at this point in my life,) and struggling with some pain and frustration due to re-learning my body post-pump implantation, I was pretty weary. I came to Friday which in some ways is my Sabbath after a busy week. I’ve been struggling with some insomnia due to some muscles and joints over-compensating for the new learning and still trying to figure out my balance. I was frustrated that God was “silent” about these issues, at least from my limited perspective, and there was a lot more output last week and a lack of input on my part to recharge. Friday was a perfect emotional storm for me (bless my dear husband!)

After some fantastic “therapy” with my dear friend and hairdresser, Kim, I spent some time trying to connect with Jesus, but felt stuck. I tried to journal, but just felt mad. I tried to work out and that only seemed to frustrate my already frustrated body.

Hubby was so wise, listened as I finally cried, “what if this is the best it gets?” I was referring to this “new body,” post-pump surgery.

“It’s not, we’ll get it figured out. Go see Luke.” He hugged me tight.

Luke is my physical therapist. He is the best combination of listener, encourager and coach in regards to recovering or relearning this body. I have seen him off and on for many years, as CP is not a one and done in terms of rehabbing. He is so familiar with my body’s quirks and is able to push me when I need it, reframe my frustration and cheer me on with the efforts of recovering. I am so thankful he is on my team. He also loves Jesus, which is an added bonus.

I warned him as he entered the room I waited in that I was going to cry today. He smiled and stated, “I’ve got Kleenex.”

I gave in to the frustration and weariness of the day, the fear that this was my new normal and also shared my wrestling with God. I lost count of the Kleenex I soaked for a few minutes.

He was reassuring as always, saying to me, “it is too early to know what your body will do with all the changes. We will keep working on it. I don’t believe this is as good as it gets for you.”

I sighed, thankful that he believed it and we got to work. An hour later, I walked out a bit easier, grateful for his perspective and professionalism, ability to help me understand these muscles better. I also always feel like these appointments are a gift from God (even though the efforts sometimes make me swear under my breath.)

After a stop at my favorite gift shop for a tiny bit of retail therapy, I felt another nudge in my spirit.

The wrestling as I was reading Mark had me stuck and I was not ok with that. I sat in my car in the sun and dialed my dear friend and Pastor, Ross. It was another few minutes of God-appointed conversation.

My tears again flowed easily, but as I fought my vulnerability, I also was grateful to be known and safe in my humanness. Ross is a great listener, encourager and friend. He also brought me the wisdom of his years of studying the Word, giving me perspective to chew on related to faith healing, my feelings of
injustice that God felt silent and encouragement to continue working it out with the God of the universe. He prayed for me with the compassion of one who knows, had no judgement for my “tantrum,’ for lack of a better word and just showed me the heart of the Savior in those few minutes on the phone.

Our evening was filled with friends who are family, the laughter and fun that were exactly what I needed.

The next day, I just rested, read, wrote and then another evening with dear friends. God was meeting all my needs with these interactions, prompting me to rest and just be. Behind the scenes I believe he was knitting together reminders of his presence, his love, care and meeting of my every need with the people in my life, his love and truth.

Sunday morning found me trying hard to get moving and get ready for church. All of the sudden, as I walked from my room to the bathroom and then the closet, my legs seemed to “remember” how to walk…

I stopped, taking in a breath. Before that moment, my movements had felt so forced, awkward and not my normal. But in that moment, my legs seemed to just take a few steps without me instructing every step. I looked at my husband who was also getting ready.

“Watch me walk a second, does that look normal?” I asked Matt. He nodded, then I asked him an even weirder question.

“Show me how you walk across the room.” Funny, he didn’t even flinch. He smiled at me, maybe shook his tush a bit and showed me again how to walk. In that moment, the tumblers in my brain seemed to fall into place a bit. It was both so strange and so miraculous. I have been waiting for this body to go back to normal, or at least find a natural pace without the lifelong spasticity I’ve had. Why this particular morning?

I think part of it was God’s very grace in saying, “I am not going to take CP from you. But I am here with you, I know you are kind of at your wit’s end. I am going to answer your prayer for relief differently than you are asking for. But I will always answer you. I am always in this with you.”

I felt the angst that had been building inside me since Friday at least (and probably longer), begin to dissipate with the feeling of Jesus’s presence in my steps. I felt the peace I had been seeking start to push the frustration from my body and a little bit of confidence in my steps move in and replace it.

In the few days since, I have not had to work nearly as hard for each step, emotionally or physically. I have been able to be kinder and more mindful with this body, trusting that the knowledge of how to walk is still there. Some of the overcompensating tendencies are settling down, which means also the pain that comes from overcompensating is mellowing as well.

I am stunned with the way God answered my prayer for relief this time. It is not the miracle that I hope for, that one moment I will have CP and the next it is gone. But, it is a miracle in its’ own way, that this body does indeed hold memory and that things are improving.

Thank you Jesus. Thank you for the permission to be angry, weary, lacking understanding and not holding it against me. Thank you not giving up on me. Thank you for the people in my life that show me more of who you are and meet me in the right ways and time because that is your prerogative. Thank you for relief that is different than I hoped, thank you that your ways are so much higher than mine will ever be. Thank you for the grace and mercy of new steps and that you are always in it with me.

I pray that you see God in the most unexpected places today, in the love and presence of people who are with you and are the very representation of Jesus. I pray that if you are feeling hope or hopeless, that you experience the presence of power of Jesus in the most amazing ways: the safety of loved ones, old things made new and surprise answers. I am praying for you…

Both/and

xoxo

Chasing the light, cathedrals and how Redwood trees remind me of camp…

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We missed church that morning. That is not such a huge deal, other than the fact that we truly love our church community and we want to be connected. But we don’t believe that God is not understanding about the times we are unable to attend church. That said, we missed it….

I got on my bike, a renewed effort to strengthen both my muscles and my joy after a season of being grounded from my bike because of medical complexity.

Though the temperature was 80 degrees and climbing as I got situated on my recumbent, I was overjoyed as soon as I began my ride on this beautiful summer Sunday. The ride in itself felt holy; the ability to move, the breeze, a collection of smells as I rode. Then I started listening to a sermon from one of my favorite pastors, Steve Carter.

He is brilliant, humble, engaging and a faithful teacher, pastor and human who adores his Savior. He teaches with an incredible insight, humor and wisdom that never fails to draw me closer into relationship to Jesus Christ. During Covid, he became “our family pastor,” through a series of what I can only assume was a God-himself-given appointment. We’ve met, chatted a few times and now, I consider him a “friend.” I haven’t had a chance to listen to his teaching much as of late, but this morning, as my legs began to pedal, my senses filled with the goodness, blessings of summer and my heart open, I was drawn to his teaching, his heart and the learning I always glean from him.

This particular teaching was so full of learning that I could write many pages. But as is typical with how I approach writing, it is usually one phrase that I cannot shake and the writing, learning and processing comes from there.

Steve talked about the Redwood trees in California; some are 300-350 feet tall, growing by 10 feet/ year. They are literally, chasing the light. Their bark is disease resistant. Resin that is fireproof. They drink fog, have a savings account of water. Therefore, they are also drought resistant.

Their roots, however are only 9-12 feet deep, BUT, spread out 100 + feet. They have interconnected roots with other redwood trees. When one redwood is sick, it somehow sends a signal to the others. They will stop what they are doing, send nutrients to the sick one…

I love nature and I love trees. As Steve described these incredible trees, I was fascinated. Then he began making connections to the community, body of Christ…

These trees function much like body of Christ.

When we are IN Christ…even though we have individual preferences, biblical mentality and convictions – nothing, nothing, nothing gets in the way of you being in Christ, me being in Christ and us being in Christ together.

I nearly stopped my bike as he said that last phrase.

Every week in my practice I hear about family, community and global tension related to the current state of the world. I hear about beliefs, differences, anger and pain because somehow, we have lost a sense of being in Christ together.

And yet, this summer, I again got to see, a community of camp staff, mentors, leaders, support staff, kitchen and maintenance staff model these very truths that our world so badly needs.

Our oldest daughter spent the summer on the Shores of Lake Michigan as a camp counselor where her grandparents met and I also spent four summers. It is a place that has deep roots in West Michigan, a long legacy of serving families and building the kingdom of God.

My daughter says, “it was life-changing in every way,” from the campers she met, friends she made, experience of being on the shores of our beloved Lake and most importantly, the communion she experienced with her peers as they all grew into deeper relationship with Jesus. She tells me over and over how she had never experienced Jesus this same way – praying together, supporting each other and even praying for me with some muscle difficulties this summer.

My mind was thinking about her and her camp community as Steve continued and I kept pedaling…

While I hiked, I came to a group of Redwoods, grown in a circle. A ranger explained: one falls to the ground, seeds scatter. The rest send nutrients, and as they come together there is an interconnectedness. These trees grow connected to this tree that has fallen that is actually alive. This is called a cathedral…

Again, the connection to the body, community of Jesus seekers and followers: This is how I connect to the alive, dynamic, compassionate and loving body of Christ. I join him and others, not asking him to connect to me…

In a world that is more polarized and self-focused than I can ever remember, let us understand in the words of Steve Carter:

When people can care, share vulnerability, this is underlying meaning of cathedral in in the church. Redwoods can’t grow alone, nor can Christians. We must have community that we invest in. Who are we one-anothering?

From what I was able to witness through my daughter’s summer, there was a one-ness with her staff, that though they had different jobs at camp, ages and populations they served, they all came together for prayer, communion, sharing and being one with each other and Jesus. Campers and staff came together as individuals had different needs while at camp. My daughter told me how on two different weeks, a camper attended camp who simply couldn’t make the steep climb down the stairs to Lake Michigan, so instead of “Polar-bearing in Lake Michigan,” the whole camp went “poolar-bearing in the camp pool” instead. What  small and mighty examples of the life we get to share together in heaven. That is why the ending is so difficult after 11 weeks together…

I have talked to so many recently who’ve asked me how our daughter is doing with the transition out of camp life. If you’ve been there, you know what I am going to say. If not, here’s the truth.

Leaving camp, just like leaving any beautiful experience with Jesus is SO HARD. Our hearts long for the connection, focus and passion of being with Jesus and others who seek him. Yes, the fun of camp is not easy to leave either, but for most, I believe it is about communion and community.

As I listened to Steve, all I could think about was the phrase, “chasing the light.” I want to be like those Redwoods, chasing the light toward heaven. I want to be interconnected to those who love Jesus too, and to those who don’t know him yet, giving care and roots when things are beautiful and when they are not. I want to give the unconditional love and support that is so needed this side of heaven. I want to live in such a way that my life says, “nothing, nothing, nothing gets in the way of you being in Christ, me being in Christ and us being in Christ together.” And I want to grow with my cathedral, the holiness I get to witness in every good and perfect gift until God calls me home.

I am profoundly thankful for camp ministry around the world that brings us a vision of life together with Jesus and his people. Thankful for every beautiful opportunity that our daughter and her friends got to experience this summer and I am thankful for the Lord over it all: sunsets and waves, campfires and fireflies, songs and skits, creativity and laughter and the planting of sees that will take root and forever chase the light.

May we all, chase His light, wherever and however we experience it. May we all share it, however we can. And may we be connected to one another that when one hurts, falls or falters, we are aware enough to help heal.

Both/And

Xoxo

1 Corinthians 13:4-8

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

Leaves on a stream, Montana and taking deep breaths…

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(For my love).

“Shhh….” My love wrapped his arms around me, my heart hammering and breath fighting to get down to my lungs. “Imagine a canoe, gliding through the water, no sound, other than the water of the river. Drops drip off the paddle, look around and just see everything with wonder….”

After he’d described this to me a few times, I felt my body begin to settle, my muscles gradually aching with an unwinding from being tensed up due to CP and anxiety. I couldn’t feel each heartbeat any more, which was good, because I was calming. My love just continued to hold tight, and the grace he gave stunned me – I’d never known a love like this one and never will again. It is the closest I can imagine to the love of God, which I know was God’s very plan for marriage. Still, if I am honest with you, it is tough to feel worthy of this much love and grace, from both Husband AND the God of the Universe….and both seem to lavish it on me over and over.

This river is a long, unintentionally cultivated image between us, born out of many things. It is my favorite, most calming imagery when my emotion brain has highjacked my system, when my thoughts race and I can’t seem to slow them down; when I am triggered by, something. Anxiety among those with CP is very common, but we know that those without CP are also greatly impacted. The numbers of those diagnosed with anxiety has sky-rocketed in the last 5-7 years.

I hear it over and over in counseling sessions: the moments of flight, fight or freeze when something alarming sends a signal to our amygdala to release cortisol and adrenaline (emotion brain). In the same instant, our ability to access logic and thought, problem solving and sometimes the “obvious” reaction (logic brain), is rendered useless until something calms that overworked amygdala.

For nearly as long as I have been a licensed MSW and practicing counseling, this concept has been an important part of my sessions, at least once a day; but often, more than that. It is, along with both/and, the most important concept that I teach. It is not uncommon to have a laugh with clients who after a few times hearing it, are lovingly complaining that once I teach it, they can’t unhear it. Believe me, I get it! I even eyeroll myself at times when I just want to rant and engage in emotion brain, but instead, the words in my head are, “deep breaths, smell the flowers, blow out the candles.”

I use so many analogies with clients, some funny, others poignant and others downright silly, but I don’t know….maybe we all do better if we have a picture in our heads along with an important concept. I often ask them if they remember old cartoons when someone is panicking and breathing into a brown paper bag? While we giggle about the images, this is how it is with our amygdala: they just need AIR…slow quiet breaths in order to get back to a “normal level of stress,” turn off the flood of adrenaline and cortisol and return to logic brain.

For me, there are a couple instant images when I think about managing anxiety: anxiety floating like leaves on a river and Montana.

When I was an MSW intern at our local Hospice, I soaked up as much knowledge as possible from my gifted supervisor and the entire team, a multitude of disciplines and so many books on death, dying and the grieving process. One such book that left a lifelong impact is Dying Well by Ira Byock. It is a book filled with the truth as I and so many others have have lived it in regards to death and dying. While that entire year spent at Hospice was life-changing, I think the book normalized and encouraged the lens that was already developing for me, the lens of value, dignity, respect and normalcy in all areas of life, not approaching death or grief as a taboo subjects but instead, striving to be with our friends, family, neighbors, communities and even acquaintances in this stage of life. It was another layer of not wanting the assumptions, not about someone dying, their thoughts, needs or purpose. “We needn’t wait till death is knocking at our door to realize that the treasures in our lives are the people we love or have loved,” says Byock.

The book has a way of showing how the pace of slowing, how the being with one another IS the gift, even in end of life moments. It is the vision of release, slowing drifting as the river carries the leaves: our fears, pain, desire to fix, our deep grief in the loss of ones we love. All of these images have become the very fabric of my being. Acknowledging, processing, grieving and being at peace.

I drank up every sentence in that book. At that time, Dr. Byock’s blurb in the back pages said that he lived and worked in Missoula, Montana. And at the time, that was my only frame of reference for Montana. One day, after a long work/internship day and evening classes toward my MSW, I told my boyfriend (now husband,) “I think we should just run away to Montana. I want to go work with Dr. Byock.” He looked at me quizzically and I explained, Dying Well, my admiration for Dr. Byock and how the holiness of Hospice work was seeping into my bones. He hugged me tight and said, “I’ll go to Montana with you….” (there is a reason he is husband.) From then on, when I had a particularly rough day or a very inspiring one, I would somehow insert or inquire about going to Montana. And he always says the same thing: “I’ll go to Montana with you…”

We’ve been together for nearly 23 years and all along the way, Montana has remained a dream. Kids, homes, dogs, life, required our finances and to be honest, the time has just not been right. Though I now sometimes surf VRBO and Airbnb when I have a day and dream of Montana, hint shamelessly and somedays, just threaten to book our vacation, we have not YET. When we watched the series, Longmire, a few years ago, I even decided on the river I wanted to find…then found out is ACTUALLY in New Mexico! Still there are rivers waiting in many places…and watching Yellowstone has stoked our desire to go, in all new ways….

But we haven’t yet…

I think the dream of Montana and it’s calming power is actually in the imagining. Not that I don’t want to go! But I think if the idea of the river, log cabin, canoe and horseback riding can instantly calm me, then perhaps I am afraid to change the dream with the real live experience…

Do you know what I mean? Have you ever hoped for a thing and then it FINALLY arrived and the luster wore off way too soon? Then it was just over….. I would be heartbroken if these images that have been so steadfast and comforting, the splash of the river and the drips from the canoe somehow changed in real – life. And…we really do want to go find my Longmire River. I KNOW deep down that Montana’s beauty will be unparalleled. And…I really want to go sit on the bank and thank Jesus for the majestic landscape, to hold my love’s hand and say, “I’m so glad…we finally came to Montana.”

I pray you have ones that will hold you during moments of inspiration, fear, anxiety and everything in between. I pray all the dreams and hopes that God has placed within you will be realized, ten-fold. I pray that you can see him everywhere from the beaches in Michigan, fields of Ohio, the evergreens of Portland, the crashing surf of Hawaii and wherever your place is….

I pray you are inspired by leaders in your field, that hope and dignity abound and that we all can one day not need images to calm us, but that God’s presence instead floods every inch of our beings.

I pray for the richness of living well and when the time comes that grace and mercy usher us to the feet of Jesus, the arms of God the Father hold tight with peace; and HIS gentle murmur, all shall be well.

Both/And

1 Peter 5:7

xoxo

What do we assume?

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I think, like most of America, I am dreading the next few months ahead of the next presidential election. As a therapist and a living, breathing human living in the US, I have heard so many opinions, broken-hearts, hopes, concerns and torn up family systems because of the state of our democracy.

*Here is my disclaimer, even before I write this post: This IS NOT a political post. I will not make this a post about who you vote for, why or even the passionate reasons why. I won’t, because I believe and value each person’s right to choose. Even if I disagree and even with all the contentious dialogue and tension that currently exists….

We are a society that WANTS to explain our feelings, our reasons, for many reasons. None of that is inherently wrong. We believe in OUR beliefs and our reasons – each side. And, As I age, I am all too aware of the massive damage and cost of assumptions…

Last week, our family spent a week on vacation at a beloved small lake up north on the Michigan coast. It was a delightful week of connection, rest, relaxation, fantastic food, smores and unplugging from our normal routines. For our family of 5 (plus my parents and beloved family friends) this was the 11th summer and our last one before our E heads to college in the fall. We laughed, played endless Spades and Euchre games, snacked, read, floated, soaked in the sun, had blessed conversations and tried hard to avoid social media/devices. The one exception was my dad and 18 year old daughter’s request to watch the first presidential debate.

In a recent sermon, my friend Steve Carter talked about the idea of having one grand confession daily: how confessing to ourselves, to God and to our safe, core group of people can actually allow us to greater love and depend on God. I l have been trying to be brave and practice that, so here goes…

My one grand confession today…. I really struggle with politics, as I have since I was 18. Before that, I don’t know if I honestly paid much attention. At 18, I was able to vote, tried to engage in beliefs and reasons to vote but quickly felt like it was all fake. I felt like both candidates might say the things that voters want to hear in order to get elected, were profoundly mean to one another and the whole business seemed to cultivate ugliness. Sure, I also saw most tension go away after whichever candidate was elected, but the whole process felt like bullshit to me. I always tried to vote, to educate myself the best I could, but my tolerance for it all has been low and gotten lower the last two voting cycles.

Ok, I guess one more confession…

I am so afraid this time around will be so much worse….which is why, when my family turned on last week’s debate, I sat with my back to the tv (while beating my son and his best friend in Euchre) but still hearing the already barbed, cutting and deeply painful interactions between the two current candidates. I felt my body tense as they traded insults, avoided questions and generally had little respect for one another. My insides that hope with every day to become more like Jesus, felt profoundly sad as I listened/tried NOT to listen.

I heard the commentator direct a question to President Biden, then a long bit of silence. Suddenly, I felt the hair on my neck stand up…

It was a few months into President Biden’s tenure in the White House when one of my kids came home, distraught about a friend mimicking a recent stumble the President had, while going up the stairs into Air Force One. Months before that, there were videos of President Trump mocking a disabled reporter that also greatly disturbed each of us. We as a family, value respect, care and equality in many areas. Disability is one that hits us differently because of me. Still, I am proud of our conversations, feelings of injustice and values in this regard. But when things like mocking and disrespect rear up, especially from the leaders of our country, it also hurts us a bit differently as well. My daughter was so upset that a friend who knows our family well and knows about my disability would be mocking a stumble….

That day, I took a DEEP breath and knew this would be yet another tough conversation, that stumble on the stairs for President Biden. I was not wrong. And over the course of his presidency, that stumble has cast a shadow on his cognitive abilities, his fitness as a leader and been fodder for many. In other words, many assumptions.

It leaves a knot in my stomach because of my own disability. Cerebral palsy is defined as ” a group of neurological disorders that affect a person’s ability to control their muscles and movement.” It’s caused by damage to or abnormal development of the brain before birth, during birth, or in early infancy. The term “cerebral” refers to the brain, and “palsy” refers to problems with muscle use. (Mayo Clinic).

Whew, tough to read that my own brain is “damaged, or abnormally developed.” That leaves a lot of room for interpretation….

From the time I could read (but not yet grasp the definition,) I have been afraid.

Of what, you ask?

So many things…I am afraid that when I write CP on a form ( as required on job applications when I was 16), I wouldn’t be considered for jobs because someone might assume things about me.

I am afraid that when people are new to me, see me, meet me, or arrive in my office, they might assume I have cognitive impairments because I walk different.

I have experienced people freezing up when they meet or see me because they assume…something.

I babysat for a neighbor one time, but then was told they didn’t want to have me again because they didn’t feel comfortable when I was walking with their child.

I have had people talk louder to me, speak to my husband instead of me or offer to send a nurse to my house when I was making a medical appointment.

I have spent a lifetime being afraid…of assumptions; navigating a culture that assumes SO MUCH. I have made an art form out of anticipating how people might react to me and being preemptive in order to make them and thus myself, more comfortable. I, (thank you Lord,) I have a career in therapy which made it non-negotiable that I do my own inner work with the my own therapist. These fears are far less at 51 than in my youth and yet they are still very real sometimes.

I empathize, which, hopefully, makes me good at my job with those who are also afraid of assumptions, those who have their own fears about showing who they are. (In other words, all humans.) My goals, both professionally and personally are to offer the space of acceptance, care and understanding, to exemplify Jesus Christ, whether people know him or not.

I think it is one of the ways God has worked my CP out for the good is that I both get to and must do my own work and because of CP, have a deep awareness of pain in general. I KNOW I would not be who I am without CP and, though there are many days I would like to trade the pain, I would never trade the lessons learned or who I am still becoming.

But because of it all, (the both/ands of CP), the hair on my neck stood straight up during that debate as President Biden groped for the right words, moved a bit slower and stumbled. I knew the rhetoric in the days following would be critical, assumptive and cruel because of these issues AND the deep divide in the country. It made me profoundly sad as we finished our card game that night…

The next morning, I scrolled on my phone for a few minutes before I got up.

It was so swift and so damning, the response to his performance: “Get him skilled nursing care, not a presidency.” “When is someone going to tell him to just enjoy his old age in a rocking chair…” “He is not able to walk, let alone run a country.” “A president in a wheelchair, I think not!”

I understand there will always be opinions about candidates, things we agree or disagree on. I also understand the choice to put oneself in public realm, which invites public opinions. But these are only a FEW of the assumptions, statements that are not about President Biden’s character, record or career. Rather they are a cruel and damning commentary about his physical being. These feel like attack on something else rather than a dialogue about the political issues.

Then another thought hit me so quickly it took my breath away…”if people are this cruel after his stumbles, (both literally and figuratively), what might they say about me? Right back to those fears…

I fell a couple weeks ago. I was turning a light off in the kitchen and for whatever reason, my feet got tangled and I hit the floor, hard. I wasn’t hurt, (more than my pride) other than the wrench in my back because I twisted on my way down to protect myself. I used a wheelchair the next day in church and was so anxious about the well-meaning comments and worry that I saw on friends’ faces, that I spent the morning trying to downplay the whole thing. I wonder kept wondering what people might assume because of my fall, the use of a wheelchair and the way my body is functioning as I age.

The difficulty is, we will all age, Lord willing. Would any of us want the bar that is being used with President Biden to be used on us if we stumble, forget some worlds or get lost in a conversation? Would we want to be relegated to “sitting and enjoying life” as our bodies change or be considered “finished with our identity and calling” because our physical bodies are slower, less capable or different than others? I know many whose intellect, purpose and abilities had little to do with how or what their physical bodies allowed, some of whom are young.

It’s’ a tough bar and none of us really can control how our bodies will change over time.

I am all for discussion about the issues. I don’t even mind civilized disagreement. But oh my goodness, it seems unnecessary to crucify someone because of their personhood that is beyond their control. In our house, a regular phrase is “generous assumption,” a phrase that if you know Brene Brown, you know. If you don’t, here it is…Making generous assumptions means we enter the conversation with an empty notepad. It means not creating a narrative based on a storyline that we have already played out, assuming we know another’s motives and why they do what they do. It means assuming the best about each other…. Husband reminds the kids at home, “it takes a lot more effort to be mean to be kind.” The truth of that grabs me every single time.

I’ve been trying to shake those cruel comments for the last week, my own fears and my fears for our country. I am taking a break from social media and surrounding myself with hope in all the ways I can. I am not perfect and have made my own mistakes with assumptions. But I suppose this is my way of shedding light on how assumptions can hurt all of us and perhaps my earnest plea to treat others how you want to be treated. John Bradford said, “there by the grace of God go I.”

Amen and amen.

Much love,

Both/And

Psalm 13