Tag Archive for: kindness
World Cerebral Palsy Day, 2024
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…
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….
(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…
(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?
I think, like most of America, I am dreading the next few months ahead of the next presidential election. As a therapist and a living, breathing human living in the US, I have heard so many opinions, broken-hearts, hopes, concerns and torn up family systems because of the state of our democracy.
*Here is my disclaimer, even before I write this post: This IS NOT a political post. I will not make this a post about who you vote for, why or even the passionate reasons why. I won’t, because I believe and value each person’s right to choose. Even if I disagree and even with all the contentious dialogue and tension that currently exists….
We are a society that WANTS to explain our feelings, our reasons, for many reasons. None of that is inherently wrong. We believe in OUR beliefs and our reasons – each side. And, As I age, I am all too aware of the massive damage and cost of assumptions…
Last week, our family spent a week on vacation at a beloved small lake up north on the Michigan coast. It was a delightful week of connection, rest, relaxation, fantastic food, smores and unplugging from our normal routines. For our family of 5 (plus my parents and beloved family friends) this was the 11th summer and our last one before our E heads to college in the fall. We laughed, played endless Spades and Euchre games, snacked, read, floated, soaked in the sun, had blessed conversations and tried hard to avoid social media/devices. The one exception was my dad and 18 year old daughter’s request to watch the first presidential debate.
In a recent sermon, my friend Steve Carter talked about the idea of having one grand confession daily: how confessing to ourselves, to God and to our safe, core group of people can actually allow us to greater love and depend on God. I l have been trying to be brave and practice that, so here goes…
My one grand confession today…. I really struggle with politics, as I have since I was 18. Before that, I don’t know if I honestly paid much attention. At 18, I was able to vote, tried to engage in beliefs and reasons to vote but quickly felt like it was all fake. I felt like both candidates might say the things that voters want to hear in order to get elected, were profoundly mean to one another and the whole business seemed to cultivate ugliness. Sure, I also saw most tension go away after whichever candidate was elected, but the whole process felt like bullshit to me. I always tried to vote, to educate myself the best I could, but my tolerance for it all has been low and gotten lower the last two voting cycles.
Ok, I guess one more confession…
I am so afraid this time around will be so much worse….which is why, when my family turned on last week’s debate, I sat with my back to the tv (while beating my son and his best friend in Euchre) but still hearing the already barbed, cutting and deeply painful interactions between the two current candidates. I felt my body tense as they traded insults, avoided questions and generally had little respect for one another. My insides that hope with every day to become more like Jesus, felt profoundly sad as I listened/tried NOT to listen.
I heard the commentator direct a question to President Biden, then a long bit of silence. Suddenly, I felt the hair on my neck stand up…
It was a few months into President Biden’s tenure in the White House when one of my kids came home, distraught about a friend mimicking a recent stumble the President had, while going up the stairs into Air Force One. Months before that, there were videos of President Trump mocking a disabled reporter that also greatly disturbed each of us. We as a family, value respect, care and equality in many areas. Disability is one that hits us differently because of me. Still, I am proud of our conversations, feelings of injustice and values in this regard. But when things like mocking and disrespect rear up, especially from the leaders of our country, it also hurts us a bit differently as well. My daughter was so upset that a friend who knows our family well and knows about my disability would be mocking a stumble….
That day, I took a DEEP breath and knew this would be yet another tough conversation, that stumble on the stairs for President Biden. I was not wrong. And over the course of his presidency, that stumble has cast a shadow on his cognitive abilities, his fitness as a leader and been fodder for many. In other words, many assumptions.
It leaves a knot in my stomach because of my own disability. Cerebral palsy is defined as ” a group of neurological disorders that affect a person’s ability to control their muscles and movement.” It’s caused by damage to or abnormal development of the brain before birth, during birth, or in early infancy. The term “cerebral” refers to the brain, and “palsy” refers to problems with muscle use. (Mayo Clinic).
Whew, tough to read that my own brain is “damaged, or abnormally developed.” That leaves a lot of room for interpretation….
From the time I could read (but not yet grasp the definition,) I have been afraid.
Of what, you ask?
So many things…I am afraid that when I write CP on a form ( as required on job applications when I was 16), I wouldn’t be considered for jobs because someone might assume things about me.
I am afraid that when people are new to me, see me, meet me, or arrive in my office, they might assume I have cognitive impairments because I walk different.
I have experienced people freezing up when they meet or see me because they assume…something.
I babysat for a neighbor one time, but then was told they didn’t want to have me again because they didn’t feel comfortable when I was walking with their child.
I have had people talk louder to me, speak to my husband instead of me or offer to send a nurse to my house when I was making a medical appointment.
I have spent a lifetime being afraid…of assumptions; navigating a culture that assumes SO MUCH. I have made an art form out of anticipating how people might react to me and being preemptive in order to make them and thus myself, more comfortable. I, (thank you Lord,) I have a career in therapy which made it non-negotiable that I do my own inner work with the my own therapist. These fears are far less at 51 than in my youth and yet they are still very real sometimes.
I empathize, which, hopefully, makes me good at my job with those who are also afraid of assumptions, those who have their own fears about showing who they are. (In other words, all humans.) My goals, both professionally and personally are to offer the space of acceptance, care and understanding, to exemplify Jesus Christ, whether people know him or not.
I think it is one of the ways God has worked my CP out for the good is that I both get to and must do my own work and because of CP, have a deep awareness of pain in general. I KNOW I would not be who I am without CP and, though there are many days I would like to trade the pain, I would never trade the lessons learned or who I am still becoming.
But because of it all, (the both/ands of CP), the hair on my neck stood straight up during that debate as President Biden groped for the right words, moved a bit slower and stumbled. I knew the rhetoric in the days following would be critical, assumptive and cruel because of these issues AND the deep divide in the country. It made me profoundly sad as we finished our card game that night…
The next morning, I scrolled on my phone for a few minutes before I got up.
It was so swift and so damning, the response to his performance: “Get him skilled nursing care, not a presidency.” “When is someone going to tell him to just enjoy his old age in a rocking chair…” “He is not able to walk, let alone run a country.” “A president in a wheelchair, I think not!”
I understand there will always be opinions about candidates, things we agree or disagree on. I also understand the choice to put oneself in public realm, which invites public opinions. But these are only a FEW of the assumptions, statements that are not about President Biden’s character, record or career. Rather they are a cruel and damning commentary about his physical being. These feel like attack on something else rather than a dialogue about the political issues.
Then another thought hit me so quickly it took my breath away…”if people are this cruel after his stumbles, (both literally and figuratively), what might they say about me? Right back to those fears…
I fell a couple weeks ago. I was turning a light off in the kitchen and for whatever reason, my feet got tangled and I hit the floor, hard. I wasn’t hurt, (more than my pride) other than the wrench in my back because I twisted on my way down to protect myself. I used a wheelchair the next day in church and was so anxious about the well-meaning comments and worry that I saw on friends’ faces, that I spent the morning trying to downplay the whole thing. I wonder kept wondering what people might assume because of my fall, the use of a wheelchair and the way my body is functioning as I age.
The difficulty is, we will all age, Lord willing. Would any of us want the bar that is being used with President Biden to be used on us if we stumble, forget some worlds or get lost in a conversation? Would we want to be relegated to “sitting and enjoying life” as our bodies change or be considered “finished with our identity and calling” because our physical bodies are slower, less capable or different than others? I know many whose intellect, purpose and abilities had little to do with how or what their physical bodies allowed, some of whom are young.
It’s’ a tough bar and none of us really can control how our bodies will change over time.
I am all for discussion about the issues. I don’t even mind civilized disagreement. But oh my goodness, it seems unnecessary to crucify someone because of their personhood that is beyond their control. In our house, a regular phrase is “generous assumption,” a phrase that if you know Brene Brown, you know. If you don’t, here it is…Making generous assumptions means we enter the conversation with an empty notepad. It means not creating a narrative based on a storyline that we have already played out, assuming we know another’s motives and why they do what they do. It means assuming the best about each other…. Husband reminds the kids at home, “it takes a lot more effort to be mean to be kind.” The truth of that grabs me every single time.
I’ve been trying to shake those cruel comments for the last week, my own fears and my fears for our country. I am taking a break from social media and surrounding myself with hope in all the ways I can. I am not perfect and have made my own mistakes with assumptions. But I suppose this is my way of shedding light on how assumptions can hurt all of us and perhaps my earnest plea to treat others how you want to be treated. John Bradford said, “there by the grace of God go I.”
Amen and amen.
Much love,
Both/And
Psalm 13
Perspective….
(Disney part 4).
June 21, 1996: I had barely turned 23, was enjoying life, post Hope College and still a huge Disney buff. I lived in the small ranch home I’d recently purchased that had been my grandpa’s, with a beloved roommate. She was strong, smart and a person with whom I felt known and understood. She has an amazing voice, taught me a lot about Jesus, heartbreak and acceptance. I worked for a local grass-roots relational ministry with teens that both challenged and grew me in ways that I still feel. I felt in some ways as if I was finding my place in an adult world and yet, not…I was still so young, with so many questions, hopes and dreams.
God was moving and changing me in ways only he could…ways that were impossible to see.
Have you been there? Do you know that feeling too? The feeling of both knowing change is happening and holding awareness that there was so much more going on than what it seems?
Roommate obliged my Disney fascination that day and we went to see The Hunchback of Notre Dame which was just released. True to the current Disney Renaissance, the music, colors and story were breathtaking. But this day, I couldn’t see any of that.
In what felt like a speeding semi-truck carrying 3000 pounds slamming into my heart, I stared at that screen as Quasimodo listened to Frollo in Out There: “You are deformed, you are ugly, (they say) you’re a monster.” Something struck like an arrow in my heart that somehow, believed some of the same about myself.
Maybe you’ve been here too? Suddenly struck by big feelings in a VERY inopportune time, that surprise and reveal something about yourself you had NO awareness of…
I sat in uncontrollable sobs, not understanding the suddenness, the bigness or the depth of these tears. One part of of me literally tried to wipe the tears and get my shit together and another wanted to weep for this sweet character at the hands of evil on the screen, for anyone who had felt the same and for my own very raw and unexpected pain….
Roommate was a gift, put her arm around me and handed me a grease-soaked napkin to wipe my tears. She was one of the few in my life that knew my CP insecurities at that time, a safe place that I didn’t even need to explain this gush of “ugly crying.” She may have understood those tears better than I did myself at that moment to be very honest. At the time, she and my best friend were two of the safest people I’d ever known.
I cried throughout the movie, the cry of being “undone -” during God Help the Outcasts, a song that still levels me; watching Quasimodo receive the love and respect of Esmerelda and his longing for something more. My 23 year old self believed I would always be dismissed because of my disability, could not see any normalcy in my being. This is often how I understand the way we all have distortions, particularly about ourselves, because for the longest time, I had them too. At least to a much greater degree than I do now! (Thank you Lord for redemption, even of our own perceptions….)
Over the course of this career, I have heard hundreds of cognitive distortions: “my smile is ugly,” “God cannot love me after all I’ve done wrong.” “I will never get over this.” “I am a complete failure….” “There is no hope, Stacy. This will never change.”
Whew….do you hear all those absolutes? My radar picks those up, quick! Gently, I nudge back…”always? Never? are you sure?” Then comes a (sometimes, involuntary) eye-roll….
Perception IS strong…and…truth is stronger.
While this is one tiny glimpse into some of my perceptions, we ALL, because we live on the fallen side of heaven, carry distorted perceptions. God in all his goodness, has led me toward truth, his truth of who HE made me (US) to be: “fearfully and wonderfully made;” – Psalm 139:14. “valued;” – Matthew 6:26. “known.” 1 Corinthians 8:3. “rescued, redeemed and forgiven;” Colossians 1:14.
To tell you of the whole journey would take the whole of my life. And to be true, this is not really about me. It is about US, in terms of the human experience.
Disney is in my opinion, is a powerful lens for me, so here is another small example. In Aladdin, we see a “street rat” who knows without doubt (at least in the beginning,) that there is so much more to who he really is. As the movie goes on though, he too, buys into the perception that he is not enough without the façade the Genie helps him create.
It is so vulnerable to just BE ourselves, isn’t it? And…if we can sit with it, tolerate the vulnerability, there is tremendous, beautiful freedom in the reality of who God has created us to be.
It is universal, how we strive to BE better, weigh less, act, cover the undesirable spots, etc. And it is universal…how we all are ALL, are exactly who and how we’re meant to be in the now and not yet. Our flaws, mistakes and insecurities are understandable and covered by the love of God, IF and WHEN we have the courage to hold them in that light.
Quasimodo, throughout the movie, finds himself changed, from within. Because of his courage, his ability to receive love and respect from Esmerelda, his perspective of himself is largely changed as well. From Disney movies to stories in our everyday lives, to the very way God commands the wind to blow…so too our perspective of ourselves, others and the world around us can and will shift. I am profoundly thankful that it is God alone who gives the ability to change at all.
Today, THIS very moment, I am praying for you…for the freedom for distorted perceptions about yourself and others. I praying for the eyes and hearts of the the most tender God who calls us each beautiful and chosen. I am praying that we all, each and every, can lean into kindness for ourselves…to be able to receive love, kindness, grace and mercy as we never have before.
“You’re braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think.” – Pooh, Winnie-The-Pooh.
Both/And
Psalm 13
xoxo
Ink…
I have a multi-faceted personality, if I can be honest with you. I am all sorts of things: introverted and love when I get to interact with my closest circle or those I find a new connection with; both anxious about the how’s, where’s and what’s that accompany my disability and very comfortable in other familiar settings, especially my back porch! I am both a rule-follower and I have a bit of a adventurer, perhaps even rebel streak. I’ve never tried cigarettes but have long thought IF I was ever going to, I was going to be a badass and try a cigar… (my 13 year old daughter’s eye’s popped out of her head as she proof read THAT sentence!)
I’ve long been living with both/and even before I knew it was a thing…
My first tattoo happened in my twenties. My dear friend Jeannine and I ventured into Purple East, which at the time, did tattoos. I felt so brave (and a bit badass if I am really honest) as BJ etched a tiny Jesus fish on my ankle. The backstory….
I was working at the time at an alternative education high school and soon into my job, I began to see how, for so many, tattoos are an external view of the parts of their story that they were willing to physically and emotionally show. When I stopped to realize what a privilege that is, it made me curious about every single tattoo I encountered. It also began to normalize the idea (and importance for some,) of wearing what is most important to you….
I had the privilege after getting my degree in social work to blend a job I adored and being “in ministry,” which as I age, just makes me grin, because no matter what we do, when we follow and love the Lord, we are all in ministry, aren’t we? I so love this idea…. and anyway, I digress.
Because I knew without doubt that my love for Jesus was forever, I decided that I wanted a tattoo, a small ichthus (Jesus Christ, God’s Son, Savior some commentaries translate). I remember explaining my surgery scar to BJ, the tattoo artist, the reason for my ichthus and the call to my parents to tell them about it afterward. I was both nervous and proud as I waited for their reaction, after this adult decision of my own!
I had also decided I wanted 2 Corinthians 12:9 curved around my ichthus which says, “My grace is sufficient for you, in your weakness, I am strong.” It was placed where it was, (as close to that big surgery scar as possible) as a reminder for all Jesus has brought me through, and all he has yet to: the painful, hard and really beautiful. It is a reminder that at my weakest, (or my strongest), he will be my strongest.
I will NEVER forget my first day back to the high school after getting that tattoo. It was late spring, I had intentionally worn shorts. I was expecting the question, hoping to share about Jesus. Because of the separation of church and state, I could not bring it up, but if they asked, I could definitely answer! It came much different as I expected though…
“Miss, what’s that say?” one of the girls half sneered, half curiously asked me.
“Corinthians. It’s a -” I began to answer but was interrupted quickly.
“Well, that your boyfriend?” She emphasized, wide, expectant eyes.
How I loved that moment and will never forget it, ever. It was real and true to the lives these kids experienced. I did get to tell her about my Jesus, my verse and so much more. For the next couple years in that school she would smile when she saw me, introduce me to friends as “Miss Stacy, she loves Jesus,” point out the tattoo or even tell the “Corinthian/boyfriend” story. I loved every moment.
That tattoo faded a bit, but brought about so many conversations as many years passed. In February 2020, there was this, an event and post I wrote just before COVID changed us all, the landscape and how we all all see things… in our weakness for sure.
A few weeks ago in church we had a sermon on “what does God think about politics.” Ben Post spoke eloquently, introduced Ve’ahavta, Hebrew for “and you shall love.” I have been resonating with his words for weeks, the idea of loving God and his people, despite differences. I am a strong believer in kindness, caring for others and giving the grace we would desire for ourselves. E wrote “Ve’ahavta” on my wrist on that Sunday and it felt like it was meant to be there. When it washed off, I asked her to write it again and again. Then I knew, I wanted it there permanently in her writing. Today, she, Jeannine and I went to do just that. (They for support.) I am so thankful for the example of my Savior to LOVE. I hope that reminder to love only gets stronger. I am thankful for the many conversations to come from E’s handwritten reminder. And you shall love indeed. 
I must tell you that even TODAY, FOUR YEARS and A FEW MONTHS LATER, I still, (STILL!) love seeing, feeling and explaining what this means to me. I love her writing, the consistent reminder to love. Just that…LOVE. Love when I see the annoyed cashier… or the client who I need to remind about an overdue account. Love myself and the extra pounds I wish would disappear, and the pups who chewed on my new shoes. And you shall love ( really try to model yourself after Jesus…)
Two Springs later, my youngest sat on my lap, running her finger over E‘s word on my wrist.
“Mama, are you going to get a word in my writing too?”
“Do you WANT me to get a tattoo in your writing? What would it be? ” I asked, surprised, but not surprised by her question.
“Yes, I do…” she said thoughtfully, then a few minutes after we both sat in silence, she asked if she could write her word. I knew if it had worked that way for one, it just might for the next….
She carefully, with fierce concentration and her tongue sticking out the way it always does when she is drawing the most important thing, wrote the word… J I R E H.
My heart skipped a beat…
She and I would belt out Jireh by Elevation and Maverick City every car ride to school, it was our anthem and our understanding of Jesus’s own heart. The Hebrew translations, in my limited knowledge says, “the Lord will provide.” It is layered with personal meaning as well as biblical meaning.
“Why that one, babe?”
“It’s our song and when I hear the song or the word I feel at peace.” I hugged her tight and wondered how long it would be until I made the appointment…..
A few weeks and many rewrites later, hubby got home from work a bit early. I spontaneously asked him to call the tattoo place just a few minutes down the road to see if we may be able to get it done.
That evening, my son’s best friend came over, was the first to see it and his smile was one I will not forget. “That is the coolest tattoo ever.” Joel told me. I smiled, knowing I loved all three of my little drawings….
The following Spring, I realized it was just undone, that I wanted words from my boys since my girls had both been so impactful. They were not as spontaneous, both needed some time to consider which word.. But what they came up with was no less important… sweet son and I have spent time watching all the Marvel movies together and most days, somewhere along the way will repeat to each other, I love you, 3000. If you know Marvel, you know. And If you don’t…well, it will be some fun research for you.
Hubby picked the word, adored, a word that even after 22 years together, I still struggle to understand. Am I really worthy of his adoration? And what does it truly mean? And do I show him mine enough?
(Oldest wanted to pick her own word, because technically, ve’ahavta was my own choice. Because it was the season of beginning to look at colleges, she wanted, always home to remind me that “wherever I go, mom, you will always be my home.”
Back to my now favorite tattoo place, and there I was, with my neat little square. It has been about one year exactly of loving those reminders of Jesus, my loves and their own handwriting. There have been countless conversations about my square, (for lack of a better description) and the pure love that comes with each…
You think you know what’s coming, don’t you? It’s a little different than you think…
Remember that trip I took with hubby to Disney in February? One night, as we got settled into the bus to return to our resort, I noticed a woman with a beautiful tattoo all the way up her arm. I sat in my wheelchair, unaware that I was comparing her tattoo and my own lovely square, looking back and forth between us. I don’t think I really thought much more than, to be honest, that hers was pretty, I wondered what the story behind it was, and if I’d been within earshot, I would’ve asked.
Cast member unlocked my chair, wished us good night, thanks us for visiting; rolled me down the ramp. Hubby took over pushing and with the voice of the one who knows me as well as I know myself, said, “I saw you looking at that lady’s tattoo. I can see you adding to yours and having something similar.” I couldn’t see his face as we entered the resort, but I could feel his truth, love and his big smile. I was both dumbfounded and I felt entirely known, even though I hadn’t even thought of it myself….
We talked about it many times during the week in line at Disney, while we nibbled on Mickey pretzels and “plastic cheese” and as we noticed others’ tattoos. We talked about it when we got home, with the kids who were so excited about the idea…which again, surprised me.
My E began drawing my story in tattoo form, all the meaningful parts of me and the pillars of what makes me who I am. I love her artwork so very much so that process was such fun by itself. What came out of all it was the desire to share who I am in an outward way that ultimately gives glory to God; gratitude for individuality, for love, the love of family and being content exactly as I am. From the time of Hubby’s comment to the ultimate design, the process was so full of “us.” And it felt so right…
Off to visit JR and Michelle, then a few weeks wait. The timing was perfect though, as my appointment was the Friday before Mother’s Day and just one week before E’s graduation open house. It wasn’t until I sat in the chair, with JR set to go that I realized that this time would be very different than getting my words. I gulped, and we were off….
4 hours later, JR had the bones of the tattoo finished. It was absolutely right. I was in a bit of pain and so much joy as I looked down the first night…hubby was in awe, daughter had hung in supported me the whole time and I just felt incredibly strong. That is SUCH a rare feeling about ourselves, isn’t it? I felt like, YES! Here I am! Let me tell you about my Jesus, my story, my personhood.
The next day I returned to have JR put the finishing touches on my new sleeve, a part of me that now feels like it has always been there.
-Along with my square are the kids birthdays and our anniversary. Next is my anchor, a symbol of many things including my alma mater, my hope, and a few special others. Going clockwise is BOTH/AND; Michigan, a representation of the Wind (an element in which I always feel God’s presence and power) and half of a quote that I share with my oldest daughter. Te amo represents my kids commitment to becoming bilingual and their love. Coordinates for one of my favorite places, my bike (freedom of movement) and then my hero Mr. Rogers is represented with 143 and Mentionable Managable. Up on my bicep is a butterfly in a state of change, the picture for me of Psalm 13. There is so much wrapped up in that butterfly, my hospice work and memories, my Jesus and so much hope. Finally, a windmill and Mickey; Lastly is a favorite quote from Cinderella, one of those life quotes that has just become my regular.
I keep looking at it and smiling…I keep grinning, feeling very unexpected, badass and so content; almost willing people to ask about it so I can tell about any part in which Jesus IS the story.
I told my mom, “I know this is probably not your thing. But I am so thankful, that in all of this life, through all the work I’ve done, I know who and whose I am.” She hugged me tight and said, “I’m so glad.” Me too, Mama. Me too.
Thank you my Jesus, for the so many ways that YOU create beauty, artistry, story. Thank you that you make each of us with unique loves, interests and things that move us deeply. May we always give you the glory. May we be curious about those around us who are willing to share their stories and reach out to hear them. And help us to see you reflected in it all.
Both/And
Psalm 13
xoxo
What Disney has taught me about traumatic loss…
(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:
- Love will in some way, at least on this side of heaven, involve loss. I have heard the quote, “grief is the cost of great love.” If we want to experience deep, connected love, then we are at risk of great heartbreak. Jesus also tells us though, “33 I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.” John 16:33 God promises that this pain will not have the last word for those who love and seek him. (Praise be to God!)
- God created us with the ability to persevere, because he is WITH US. (Not just in the good, but in the unthinkably hard.)
- Grief is a marathon, not a sprint. Mourning is grief that is actively moving in some direction. Remember who you are, whose you are, while in the messy, crazy-making process. God knows the days, the moments, the breaths that are so hard to take…
- “When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.” Isaiah 43:2 - Lean on friends, family, your roots and if you are willing and able, the God of the Universe who loves you deeply. Allow others to carry you, whether that is a grief therapist, a friend who opens the door and wipes your tears after you’ve held things together for awhile. A pastor, or support group. You were never meant to endure alone…
- Stay in today, or even in this one hour. One step, then another. Take a bite of something, even if you are not hungry. A sip of tea, one phone call or a shower. One thing at a time. You see, one thing can add up to another and another and another. In time, Spring will come again, you may breathe just a bit easier and you will be able to carry your loved one with you into whatever comes next.
I am praying for you as you grieve a loss of many kinds. You are not alone.
Both/And
xoxo
What we can learn from Ariel, Ursula, shipwrecks, grief and Jesus.
(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.
- Don’t be afraid to be a “help.” Be safe, yes, but also quick to assist as needs arise.
- Be curious – “whoozits and whatzits galore, you want thingamabobs? I got 20…” I think Ariel (both) gave a great vison of leaning into the the things that bring us awe and curiosity. For me, this translates to the ways God has created each of us with interests, passions and curiosities, the nudging of the Holy Spirit to become those God-gifted versions of ourselves.
- Be aware of everything around you. As I grew up, I became more and more aware of the parts of Ariel that concerned me. As I often do with movies, I find myself thinking or speaking out loud, “why are you going in there, down there, through there, etc?! Don’t you see (or FEEL) the danger??” I am well aware that if Ariel had listened to the warning signs that screamed as she approached Ursula, the movie might have flopped, but I do think it’s a great talking point to listen, look and pay attention, especially, if something “looks and sounds too good to be true, it just may be.”
- Following your heart in the moment may bring more trouble than “a dream come true.” (and we all want “the dream come true.”
- Always try to be open-minded and non-judgmental about others. I loved how the current Ariel was brave in saying to her father, “not all humans are bad, father.” He assumed because a human had harmed his wife, that all “are barbarians.” I think both movies did this well, but the more recent Little Mermaid was much more pointed and articulated about this truth.
There are so many to name…including, fish are friends, not food!” Even so, the one that came to me out of the blue, very early in my career has to do with Ursula, shipwrecks and grief.
Do you remember the scene after Ursula secures the trident and grows to a towering monster of the sea? She begins to swirl the water where Eric and Ariel swim, creating a whirlpool from the sea floor up to the surface. As she swirls, long buried shipwrecks begin to rise to the top of the water, bobbing and swaying in the frothy, tumultuous water.
While an intern at Hospice, it occurred to me how an immediate loss was much like Ursula in that scene. Throughout my career, that analogy has become even clearer, especially with a traumatic loss. Subsequently, our past losses (shipwrecks) also rise to the surface as we move through current loss. Over time, this analogy has normalized a lot of loss, trauma and connection. The image allows me to give a framework to how losses, both current and past, connect and impact so many parts of us as we tend to the unwanted path of grief. And though this (probably) was not Disney’s meaning behind that scene with Ursula, shipwrecks and crashing waves, it has been the truest image of grief that I have ever seen.
The newest version of the Little Mermaid gives us deeper messages of acceptance, explanation, strength and grief: The crashing of hope, differences in beliefs, needs and desires; the unexplained loss of many and finally, a deeper understanding allows us a new (again) perspective of grief.
I am grateful for the creativity of animators who create images that give birth to ideas, deeper meaning and understanding. It is a miraculous moment when a therapist gets to assist in those moments of clear understanding and deeper truths inside of us. That image, in my experience, has provided many with a way of understanding and explaining what the magnitude of grief can feel like for some. It is then, that we get to discuss the magnitude of hope, resilience, strength and hope. Sometimes, there are discussions about how Jesus calms the storm, thus settling the water, the size of grief and assists with processing past trauma and loss right beside us.
When it is hard to find helpful words, hope sometimes becomes clear in a picture. Sometimes that picture speaks a thousand words. I pray that your pictures are full of Jesus’s heart and the hope of him, always. I pray for purpose that feeds the creativity that we were born with. And if you are facing Ursula, (the current grief) and shipwrecks (past losses, dreams unrealized, or other past pain), you are not alone. Lean into your support system, reach out for help, know that the God of heaven and earth is with and for you…always.
Psalm 89:8-9
O Lord God of hosts,
who is mighty as you are, O Lord,
with your faithfulness all around you?
9 You rule the raging of the sea;
when its waves rise, you still them.
both/and
xoxo