Tag Archive for: Love
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
Even better than Disney?
(a series on ways that for me, Disney, Jesus and therapy all fit together…)
I took a deep, and I do mean, DEEP breath…the kind that I can feel all the way through my torso. The kind…that would make Mr. B, my choir teacher, so very proud. The plane was landing, I peered out the small window and saw palm trees swaying gently in the sunshine-filled sky, a breeze lulling them into movement, just a bit….
My love and I were there to celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary, my 50th birthday and anything else we could possibly celebrate. And yes, THERE was in fact, Walt Disney World. If you know us, then you are probably NOT surprised. If you don’t, well, it is time for a bit of my backstory and my love of Disney, Mickey, the love of all things good and more of Jesus.
I think I was about 5 years old the first time we visited Disney World. My memories are vivid, though few are actually mine. Many have been solidified by pictures of that trip. I clearly remember our stay at the Polynesian, getting to “drive the monorail,” being both scared and mesmerized, developing vivid memories of The Pirates of the Caribbean – arriving in the middle of a battle between the pirate ships, the musky, yet inviting smell of the water, looking up from the boat to see a pirate’s VERY hairy leg hanging off the stone wall above and “YO HO, YO HO….” that I would never forget. The Haunted Mansion – the “ghosts,” an elegant, yet spooky ballroom and organ, graveyards and a terrified man and his shivering dog. Yes, at 5, I was scared at some points and I was also completely smitten with the magic. WDW was indeed a Fantasy land to me. Parades, characters, music, smells and wonder.
My most vivid memories were those of meeting Mickey Mouse. I just loved him. I loved his smile, happiness and was thrilled when I got my own turn to visit with him. We went for a character breakfast at the Crystal Palace, but none held a candle to sweet Mickey for me.
Picking a souvenir was SO HARD! It was such a big decision and I could not decide….my dad still talks about how many gift shops we visited and how my sister and I had to go back to many. Still, I finally settled on a stuffed Mickey and oh goodness, did I love the stuffing out of that one. Once we got home, I was so distraught that I had split Mickey and Minnie up, that my parents had some good family friends pick up the matching Minnie on their trip a few weeks later. That surprise on Christmas was unforgettable.
We visited again soon after adopting my younger brother, about 3 years later. My brother was searching for Mickey on the runway as the plane landed. I remember the Poly again, the stuffed Donald Duck he treasured and the love of being there once again.
There have been a number of trips over the course of my life, the ones with my parents and siblings, the one in college when I had an opportunity to go along with a family I babysat for, another with my best friend, my sister and her husband and then the trips with my husband and eventually, our beloved kids. Throughout my life, my love for Disney, Mickey and Disney World has remained constant. It has been part of my identity for as long as I can remember. I was “Aunt Mickey Mouse” to differentiate me from another “Aunt Stacy” at Camp Geneva and I think, lovingly adopted Mickey and gang as my team. What began for me as a kid (and probably the obligation my parents and so many others feel to let their kids experience Disney as least once, thank you mom and dad!!) has become a true love with a place, a feeling and something I still have difficulty putting an accurate description to.
From my youth, my love for both Disney and Jesus have had defining moments in who I am. Obviously, these are not equal. But, on this trip, I began to see how present my experience of Jesus is, everywhere, even at Disney.
From being a kid truly enamored with the parks, the characters and Mickey himself to an adult Disney lover, researcher and fan for many reasons, it has become so much more than childhood infatuation. It is an awareness of goodness, joy and a sense of returning to those feelings of youth. It is so much more for many, evidenced by increasing social media accounts, blogs and an entire art form that has become related to all things Disney. Our recent trip (just husband and I), had me really listening, watching and becoming aware of a much bigger picture of Disney than most would assume….
There is a sense there, of “all being right with the world – a suspension of “normal stress,” even though it gets traded for the less talked about stress that is, “high Disney expectations that so often go unmet.” Still, Disney’s numbers do not lie. Since its’ opening on October 1, 1971, it is estimated that an average of 58 million visit yearly. For us, not yearly, but as often as possible with a busy life, kids activities, jobs, etc.
Before I write another sentence, let me tell you a couple important details. 1) I am a very glass-half-full person. Not in an avoidant or Pollyanna way, but in a way that continues to evolve as I age. I choose to believe the good. I love the perspective (and sometimes challenge) of seeing the good when it seems to be hidden.) AND…I can sit in the hard, negative or downright difficult. Both/And has become a way of life for me. It is not trite. It is for me, the only way to approach almost everything because nearly everything is multi-faceted. 2) I am very aware of the underbelly that is present with Disney and most other things. It is commercialized, at its core, a business to make money and yes, extremely expensive. I am not avoidant of that awareness either. I again, just choose the good, the joy and positive more than the negative….
That said….
Husband and I arrived to celebrate a few important milestones, to refresh, to be together, and to PLAY at the parks. We appreciate the quality at the resorts, the food and the now familiar joy of being on Disney property. I am not sure how, but they work VERY hard to ensure the cast members are kind, accommodating and will go an extra 10 miles if needed to provide each guest with a magical stay, no matter what. We have experienced this over and over again.
This time, though, I was acutely aware of kindness, even more than fantastic customer service.
This time, around, I chose to use a wheelchair, which is not my everyday experience. I typically use a wheelchair when there are long distances and/or uneven terrain.
One of the beautiful things about Disney is their awareness and care for those with disabilities. Every time we rolled up to an attraction, big or small, a cast member had made eye contact along with a smile, begun clearing the way, unlatching lane lines or already directing us to a specified accessible entrance, with a lot of care and acceptance. Each conveyed a seemingly natural sense of inclusion, almost as if they didn’t even realize they were doing so. Throughout rides, shows or even getting to our resort, cast members were ready with an additional arm to support, encouragement to “take all the time you need,” or simple issues related to dignity. This meant more to me than I can convey.
I follow many Disney sites and forums, therefore hearing a lot of different experiences. It is my joy to live vicariously through others experiences, especially because the reality of going to WDW as often as I’d like is impossible.
Recently, I read a story, how a single mom was determined to bring her kids to Disney World even though she herself struggled with an anxiety disorder, panic attacks, and acute claustrophobia. As she entered a ride vehicle, her panic set in, and she knew she needed to get off the ride. A cast member saw her get on, then quickly get off with her kids in tow. The CM gently guided her another direction past the line cue, brought her to an extra ride vehicle, then took time to let her practice getting in and out. The cast member then went a further extra mile and offered to go on the ride with her. She (the CM) pointed out the hidden exits throughout the ride in order to help her keep the claustrophobia at bay, as well as hidden ride details and a few distractions. As this brave, strong Mom relayed the story in the forum, you could almost hear her tears of appreciation and changed perspective, because a cast member was so infinitely kind.
Another recent story told of another single mom, bringing her sweet daughter, who was in her last few weeks of life due to a brain tumor. The mom explained how when they finally got their turn to see Anna and Elsa, she told Elsa about her daughter’s joy and devotion. The cast member assigned to help then closed the line, proceeded to assist with a bigger photo shoot just for this mom and daughter. The mom shared that her daughter had since passed away, but these pictures meant so very much to her in the gut-wrenching throes of grief. I am not sure if either cast member is on that forum or if they are aware of the life-changing things that they provided for these two exceptionally brave women and their kids.
My experiences are not nearly that profound. And they were beautiful…
As we boarded Soarin’, I was seated next to a woman who was terrified of heights. During our preflight safety check, she was going back and forth in fear, “I need to get off” then her grown daughters asked her to stay. “Is it really high?” she asked husband and I with wide, fear-filled eyes. Husband was so reassuring to her, explained the mechanics. “I think you will be sorry if you don’t try” he gently told her and I was so proud of him. Still as the ride began, her body went rigid next to me. “Oh SHIT,” she exclaimed, eyes closed tightly. I leaned over, covered her white-knuckled hand with mine. “If you want to hold my hand you can..” I whispered. Then I began to quietly narrate the scenery before us. “Now we are dipping low over a river, near some kayaks…” she opened her eyes just a bit, whispered, “ok, I like this…
Then we swooped up, over a mountain, said hello to a hang glider on the screen, then soared over a grove of orange trees. Smells of fresh citrus filled our nostrils. Then is was ocean waves, dessert wind gusts and the streets of Disneyland on the screen…all the while I whispered, she gripped my hand and we settled back on the floor. She smiled at me, her eyes giving all her thanks. I squeezed her hand and softly encouraged her to “find a good margarita if you like them.” “Oh, I will!!” She was gone in a flash. I was thankful to have been in that seat, at THAT moment.
My own experiences, held their own life-changing beauty. I sat in that wheelchair as my husband selflessly pushed, helped and purely loved me for many many miles in the parks. Countless times, cast members were right there to assist if we needed it. And then there were a few meetings with Mickey himself.
You may find it silly that going to get my picture with Mickey Mouse as a 50 year old woman was important to me. That’s entirely OK. But watching the cast members care, listening to the joy of each person who got to walk into any characters presence and hearing how much it meant to so many based on the lines to get there, tells me that I’m not the only one.
By the time it was our turn, husband and I had already established a routine. As the people ahead were getting their pictures, we pushed the wheelchair off to the side and then made work of getting up to visit Mickey & Minnie ( or whomever.)
As soon as the previous group had left the queue, Mickey turned his attention to me. There was such a gentleness and care as Mickey and Minnie both would take my hand and walk me over to the center spot. There was love and support that came through from the heart behind that costume. It was palpable and happened time and time and time again.
My adult brain is very aware of what is happening with a person behind the costume, but with each picture was the awareness that for at least 40 years this character has meant a lot to me.
One of my favorite quotes from Maya Angelou says, ” I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
Disney is SO masterful at capturing the feelings - the music, the joy, the familiar, the wonder, (even the smells!) that bring us all back to a place we remember, if not in our actual memory, than in a deep, primal part of our brains. As I watched all those people in the park, seeking this feeling, enjoying the stability and sameness that Disney somehow manages, I was aware again, how we are all looking for the same thing in real life. We want things to be unchanging. We want joy and goodness. We want to be seen. We are all moved by kindness. We want wonder…we want to remember how all of it feels, at least I think so.
Yes, a lot of that can be found at Disney, not all the .time though. Husband and I giggled quite a few times with empathy for young parents who just wanted that sweet picture with their child and Buzz Lightyear, with Minnie or with a their favorite snack for their Instagram. And yet, as it happens, kids (and adults) get overstimulated, tired of waiting, hungry or sometimes, something we just don’t know. We all struggle with something, even at Walt Disney World.
It would be so easy for me to make Disney some sort of idol, even inadvertently. While I love so many things about The Walt Disney Company: the atmosphere, imagination and overall goodness found in the ability to experience a “fantasy” while on vacation, it is just that, a means to get away from “real life.” While Disney allows me (and so many others) to chase the feeling that we want to hold on to forever, there is something so much bigger.
Nothing in my life is separate from or more important than Jesus Christ. While Disney is my “joy,” a place and ideas where I find sheer delight, it always ends, at least for that vacation.
Jesus is unchanging, forever and ever. Romans 8: 38-39 says, “For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
While it is a fantastic vacation at Disney and we absolutely CAN find moments of experiences that reflect all the good, kind, joyful characteristics of Jesus EVERYWHERE, the God of Heaven and Earth IS all of those things and SO MUCH MORE! He is LOVE. He is LIGHT. He is PERFECT. He is so much more than our best experiences, even when we feel the characteristics in small amounts everywhere.
We experienced all kinds love and goodness while on vacation. As with so many people and places in life, there are so many reflections of Jesus: in our families and most intimate friendships, relationships, nature, artwork, creativity, skills, hobbies and abilities. It is ALL created to reflect and glorify the creator, even how we experience feelings, people and joy at Disney. I can experience a reflection of my Savior in everything, and I do. There is never a shortage of things to be in awe of. And nothing deserves my awe, my love and devotion more than He does. NOTHING compares to the journey and relationship with the Lord Jesus Christ.
In speaking with my friend and pastor, Ross, he told me about the Biblical idea of “Kal Vehomer.” In his words, “It’s a phrase that literally means “light & heavy” and it’s an argument that moves from the lesser to the greater. It’s usually translated as “how much more,” Jesus uses it when he talks about parents knowing how to give good gifts…and so “how much more” our Heavenly Father does too.” He went on to say, ” if Disney knows how to see & honor & love people — and to create an atmosphere of goodness — how much more does Jesus see and love and how much more does God know how to create a world saturated with goodness in the kingdom come.” I am so appreciative of this dear friend’s perspective, editing help and wisdom. I couldn’t have said this better myself. It is EXACTLY what I was hoping to say.
My love, thank you for showing me Jesus in all the ways as we spent this time together. Your care, joy and sacrifice on my behalf, are not unnoticed. You astound me every day. I am humbled to be given your love for this lifetime.
To each and every cast member who goes above and beyond, who work diligently to provide dignity, time, support and happiness to those of us who come and take this place for granted. Your efforts don’t go unnoticed either.
My Jesus, thank you for the sunshine and swaying palm trees. Thank you for opportunities to go and experience the magnificent artistry of Imagineers, creativity, visual and audible wonders of music, shows, food, fireworks and so much more. Your attention to detail so that we may experience joy is so, so extravagant. Thank you for the laughter of kids and adults alike, the way you are the one who has created wonder at all. Thank you that you are the true author of our stories, your presence in the good and evil, the deep down fear, battles, redemption and love. I pray that through all things, even Disney, you continue to use it to show us who you are.
Both/And
xoxo
1 Corinthians 13:4-8
PS I am hoping in the next few posts to write about some of the common analogies that I use in counseling using some of the poignant moments Disney has created that reflect to me humanity, Jesus and therapy all together…let’s see how it goes!
The weary world rejoices
Candles flicker, faces glow…. O Holy Night.
I let my tears spill from my eyes without wiping them away as the Hallelujah swells – both tears of sadness, remembering how it was so hard to sing at the funerals of two beloved grandparents and tears due to the pure holiness of standing in this sanctuary on THIS Christmas Eve. Funerals and majesty, two reasons we would say hallelujah in the first place.
I sit next to my son on one side, my husband, and the other, (the girls and my parents on either side of them,) knowing the family behind me is celebrating a new engagement. Families in front of me and all around, generations of growth, hope and change.
Christmas Eve together: the moments of taking pictures including our three dogs, that bring both laughter and preserving the moment and the frustration of trying to get the picture at all. Then we were off to one side of the family for Christmas, blessings of being cared for by my in-laws and gratitude for being loved.
We arrived for a candlelight service at our church that is still new to us and yet familiar. After attending church here as a teen, then another for nearly 25 years of my adult life, God brought us back here, post-COVID.
Worship this night led us to the very love of Jesus embodied in a vulnerable, helpless baby. Our lovely and talented worship leader encouraged us to think about the service as if it was the first or last time we would hear the story of Jesus Christ’s birth. What would be different, what would be new or what would we feel?
Oh Jesus, how could you, for me? How could you subject yourself to it ALL? Knowing and not knowing as a babe, knowing and teaching as a teen, as a rabbi, a sacrifice and ultimately as a Savior. How could you for us ALL? Can we worship you or thank you enough? Can we possibly love you to make it all worth it?
These were my thoughts, as I felt all around slip away and was just present with my Jesus, Lord and Savior. I can’t do, say, or love you well enough. I truly cannot….
But I can stand here, surrendered to the holiness of Christmas, allowing my heart to hear it new, to see you in a different light and share the love you have lavishly given so freely. I can stand here, still missing my beloved people who are with you already. I trust that your word is true.
Home after the service, the 5 of us. I relish these moments of us, the ones I feel slipping away like sand on a shore…the 18 year old just ready, talking more and more of “going to school.” My other two growing and changing as well… but for now she and we are here…the sparkle of Christmas lights, the arrival of friends who are family to share a hug and tea ring, a time honored tradition that brings again the pang of loss and the hope of heaven. The loss of this dear sister’s dad was a teacher of grief in my 20’s. Love tends to honor loss and hope so often, if not always. It is a difficult and deeply trusting both/and, on the daily.
Then is one of my favorite things of all… the giving of gifts to those I love. I often wish for a million dollars to be able to dole it out in all the best ways.
This year included Legos for my love and my son, their favorite cloths brands, sweet and meaningful jewelry, stuffed animals, books, electronics and favorite candy. The pure joy for us as their parents WAS the joy, the gratitude and the moments that THEY recognized just for a moment, how known and seen, loved and cherished they are. The stuff is simply a mechanism to show them love, care and unconditional presence to who they are.
I also received so much love in the form of their thoughtful and beautiful gifts: a handmaid piece of pottery, jewelry of sentiment and symbolism, soft socks and thoughts of my Gram; a candle “that smells perfect like you, Mom” and still more love than I could write. My love outdid himself, the sheer surprise of a recumbent bike he crafted out of metal, and tickets to see Pink in the Future! (If you are wondering why that is in bold, please see my last post!) I could not have been more surprised or felt more cherished. Not because of the gift, because love IS the gift.
Love is the gift, this Christmas and every other moment beyond, because HE, Jesus Christ, IS LOVE.
That’s what I felt in the candle lit glow of the sanctuary, a growing actual sanctuary of safety and love in the form of the church, new and old friends. That is how I saw the Christmas story new: the familiar, the sacrifice, innocence and the true LOVE. That is how I experience friends and family, the love of it all.
Christmas day brought still more love, care, laughter and our humanity in the form of all of us together. All the care, love and individuality. I am so thankful for the both/and. In it ALL, HE IS LOVE. We try to love and love well. We get to try to care and be kind to ourselves and each other. We GET TO cherish each other because, there by the grace of God, go (I) but truly we….
I pray for you, this Christmas season, that you GOT TO feel love in some form…that even in the hardest and darkest, hope somehow prevailed. I pray you KNOW without a shadow of doubt, how important and worthy you are and that you are able to rest and hope, in all that God promises.
Thank you for being on this writing journey with me. It is such a gift to write, interact and connect.
Merry Christmas again and a very brave, brave New Year.
Both/And
1 Peter 4:8
Holding my rail…
“Don’t let go of your rail.” I encouraged last week during a counseling session, to a person who has been enduring emotional abuse for the last 10 years. They have been working so hard on boundaries and I am so proud. As my day wound down, the memories and years I have been giving that phrase to brave clients played like a soundtrack in my head. It was no surprise to me that a smile pulled at my lips and my brain found the very first time I myself was told the exact same thing….
I was in my 20’s when I began the self care practice of getting deep tissue massages. I had/have a complicated relationship with this body, as I believe we all do. I was a young woman, introverted and not yet aware of how to care of these muscles who endure so much. Cerebral Palsy was confusing by itself, but learning how to care for and love a body that was hard for me to trust was…well, let’s just say that I am still and probably will always be learning about that in some ways. I am both much further than I was and not yet where I want to be.
I can’t remember how I came upon Suzy. It took many months, but my body and my heart would eventually trust this massage therapist who is kind and knowledgeable. She was for quite some time, a very safe person to open up to while she helped me learn what I needed with this disability AND this body. Suzy became more than my massage therapist, she was a teacher in many ways, as well as a friend, insightful and caring. While she was loosening my muscles, she also helped loosen my fears, insecurities and walls.
During one such appointment, I lay on a massage table while Suzy rolled my calf muscles, a vulnerability it had taken me a long time to brave…she would press so hard on the bottoms of my feet, which to me, is heavenly! Much of my spasticity originates in my feet, I have learned. She was a bit in awe that I wasn’t screaming in pain as she worked hard to get my muscles to release some of the tension that it does not realize it is gripping so tightly.
“I have made burly quarterbacks cry with much less pressure than this.” She quipped as I lay facedown on her massage table. I remember feeling simultaneously sad for said quarterback AND feeling very strong in that moment. Later I would say to myself, “how badass am I, if football players cry about this and I DON’T!”
That day, I was telling her about a concert I had attended a few nights before with a friend. The arena near our home is big and crowds have always been anxiety-provoking because of my balance. I tense up, fear getting bumped, falling and/or getting trampled. I explained how when I go down a set of stairs, I hold the rail tightly to keep myself upright and as safe as possible.
Inevitably though, someone will come up the stairs, (against the down-going flow) in the same spot that I am trying to go down, both of us holding tight to that rail. At that time, I firmly believed that I was required to get out of someone’s way if they came up to me that way. I erroneously believed that I was doing the better thing by letting go so they could pass, even though I would tense up and get very scared on that step until I could grab ahold again, clinging tighter still with a now clanging heartbeat. Perhaps this was VERY ingrained, “put others before yourself,” or people-pleasing because I thought that I had to be extra nice to everyone to make up for needing extra help sometimes. Either way, as I described it to Suzy, her eyes grew wide.
“You know that is not safe for you, right?” She had a stare that seemed to go right through me. And to be honest with you, I had never considered that. Now was my turn to blink and replay the events from a few nights before, including how I had handled those arena stairs.
“Huh…” I murmured, wondering for the first time in my life why I was indeed, getting out of someone else’s way when they were going the wrong direction and when it was more than necessary for me to hold on….
“Don’t you NEED the rail?” She asked, gently, working hard on my feet and toes, which I was noticing had become tighter and more contracted as she asked her questions.
Out of nowhere, tears filled my eyes and my nose filled up in mere seconds. I did. I could not get down any flight of stairs without that assistance.
A surprising silent wail threatened to rise from the toes that were painfully clinching to keep it deep down. She must have known…but she silently let me hold that wail, a soundless sob that shook my whole body. It was THEN, that I began to understand AND acknowledge how terrifying it was, to try to move and get out of someone’s way on those steps as I felt obligated to let go of those railings….
THAT was the day that I truly began to understand the connection between emotions and bodies. My own body was a living, moving example, (which to my chagrin at this moment,) that I could not control.
Suzy gently finished kneading the muscles in my feet, then walked softly to touch my shoulder. I was grateful to be laying facedown; snot running out of my nose. At least I didn’t have to look in her kind eyes. If I had, the sob would’ve burst forth and I undoubtedly would’ve been more undone…
“It’s ok for you to hold on and make them move,” she said and this was an entirely new revelation to me.
“It is???” I asked, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice.
“Absolutely! You didn’t know that either, did you? ” She asked gently. Now she was surprised.
“I guess not,” I said. “I just never wanted to make things hard for anyone else.”
Suzy gave me an intense look that I could feel rather than see, then silently swept out the room so I could get dressed. When I came out a few minutes later, I walked to the desk. She surprised me again when she gave me a hug, telling me softly, “You don’t make things harder for anyone. Don’t let go of your rail. You have every right to need it and hold on.” Tears filled my eyes again, the tears of being seen, known and cared for. I thanked her and pondered railings, staircases and acceptance for many days following that massage.
A few weeks after that massage, I stood at the top of the stairs somewhere, pausing before I told my feet to step down, then another and another.
Suddenly, about 1/3 of the way down, a man darted up in the wrong direction and was face-to-face with me at that railing. My heart raced, I began to gear up to let go, but the sound of Suzy’s voice in my head gave me a second to pause. “Don’t let go of your railing…”
I held tight, tried to reassure myself that I was “not inconveniencing anyone,” and waited.
The man in front of me looked around quickly, then moved around me with ease.
I nearly burst into tears…change was happening….I had gotten out of the way for so many, so many times, that this change was a relief and in those early days of changing my own beliefs, felt both exhilarating and exhausting.
It has been nearly 25 years since that conversation with Suzy. Yet, as I write, I can remember every moment, how God himself began working in my head, heart and muscles because of those moments. Over the course of that time, I have held the rail SO many times. In fact, I don’t think I have let go since. That doesn’t mean is always easy to put myself first.
Just a few days ago, I began descending the stairs of a local high school after a dizzying week of swim meets, birthday (for my newly adult daughter) and all of life in between. I was tired, happy and as always, a bit awestruck at my teens’ (and their friends) incredible physical abilities in the pool.
As I gripped the railing and began instructing my leg muscles, (“step down, pause, gather your balance. Ok, step again…pause, repeat…”) a little girl darted up the stairs, running so fast right into my projected path. My heart began hammering and my inner dialogue changed gears, “hold on, just wait. Stop, you don’t have to move.” I held too tight, so tight my fingers throbbed, but Suzy’s voice came back even though I have not seen her in MANY years: “Don’t let go of your railing.”
Suzy’s voice, presence and how God used her in that one day: the last five-ten minutes of a massage has multiplied more times than I can count. “Don’t let go of your rail,” has become such a normal phrase for me personally, and also professionally.
Sometimes, “don’t let go of your rail” applies to family dynamics, boundaries, self worth and communication. Other times it applies to stating our needs, wants and emotions. Still others, “hold on to rail” can become a symbol for an anchor in a storm, grief, major life change or unexpected illness. There have been countless times where I have drawn on this phrase as a metaphor or physical reminder.
Personally, it is a whispered phrase of safety and self worth when someone stares a bit too long; a reminder to when my former soundtracks begin to blare: “I am a burden” “People are staring.” It is a phrase of comfort when I hear comments like, “what’s wrong with her feet, mom?” overheard in a store. At 50, all of these bother me less and less often than when I was younger, but occasionally, we ALL need the reminder, don’t we? The reminder to take care of ourselves, to let others’ opinions float away, to claim our own space, to hold tight to Him who IS the very best stability and anchor. To lean on the those who are dependable, even when we feel we’re going to fall…
Do you have a phrase, a mantra or reminder that you say to yourself when things feel hard? Maybe it is a role model that you emulate, one who feels placed in your path or vision for such a time as this…
Along with phrases and nearly every famous Mr. Rogers quote, there are many who inspire me, too many to name or count. One is Alecia Beth Moore Hart. Maybe you know her too, better by the name, Pink. Her journey is well-documented, from rough and badass, loud and rebellious to awe-inspiring performer and everything in between. She is an advocate for therapy, doing our own work, both individually and and family. Pink is unapologetic, she swears, she loves, she accepts and she bites back at fans who criticize and belittle. She is driven, seemingly fearless and athletic. AND she is a mama, wife and musician. She is a role-model in “holding her rail.”
I began following her music after seeing her perform an aerial silk routine on the Grammy awards in 2010 which left me completely thunderstruck. Her physical abilities and performance left me jealous and mesmerized. Since, I have listened to her music, followed her career and at times smiled at her attitude while turning the music down in the car so the kids wouldn’t pick up on ALL the words. Attending one of her shows is certainly on my bucket list. Recently, she did an interview on 60 minutes.
“These muscles that scare people? These muscles are my power…I eat well to go far, fast and hard.” -Pink
I sat watching, trying to understand how anyone could be scared of her muscles! Then I thought, “that is how you hold your rail….”
I had been scared of my own muscles, to trust and depend on them. I But as I listened to Pink, I resonated with this quote, negative beliefs and power in and throughout the journey. These muscles ARE my power…
What had begun for me with Suzy was God-breathed, his own reminder of being with me. He used Suzy; through that one conversation, she showed me how to reclaim my power AND hold my rail. I hold on, I show up for myself and I do my work to go far, especially with CP.
Today, I encourage and challenge you to “hold your own rail,” own your presence and look to the one who will never leave you to go it alone. Maybe it IS through hard interactions this holiday season, losses or grief that threatens to swallow you. Maybe it is finally allowing yourself to see your own good, hold your own needs or share your truth. Perhaps holding your rail is seeing the Savior with fresh eyes this Christmas.
I am thankful for every bit of it, even the scary moments when I let go and wasn’t sure why. That makes the times I’ve held on and helped others hold on also, that much sweeter. I thankful for the big and small encounters, the role models (some of whom we may never physically met) and the growth and confidence God bestows over the course of time. I am thankful for Suzy, Pink and those who I get to walk with. I pray you are kind to yourself, giving grace and mercy, especially to yourself. And I pray that you can hold on to your rail, because it is so worth it.
I wish you both a Blessed Christmas and a brave New Year
Hebrews 13:5
Both/And
Becoming a wild wonder woman…
Recently, a client described her granddaughter to me with the words, “she is a wild wonder woman!” it was one of those moments in counseling that initially was not particularly noteworthy. Important, yes; but not one that I clinically sat back and took note of. After we finished our session, however, I wrote it down on a sticky note, because I thought it was such a great phrase.
True confession… I love T-shirts. I love a good soft fabric, a vibrant or color that matches whatever mood I am in and I love a T-shirt with words that have meaning. I am notorious for coming up with great ideas and phrases that could be on a T-shirt. Maybe it is the memory of a place, an experience or a person, that draws me to pull a certain one of my crowded closet. “That is one from the Disney Cruise, mama!” or the perfect shade of gray shirt my dear friend made (yes, she OWNS a screen printing shop, see below!) to commemorate my bike riding adventures for 100 days, then 365 days! I own many, deeply embedded with Disney memories, my kids sports others that just simply make me smile.
And often, my proclivity toward a great T-shirt works its way into counseling sessions, because there is usually a take-away for clients, an idea, phrase or concept that clients hope to remember. The joke sometime becomes putting their phrase on a t-shirt or there is a phrase, much like Both/And that keeps coming up, over and over, that should “definitely be on a t-shirt!” Last week, after my client told me about her phrase for her granddaughter, I knew I needed to remember it.
It has sat on my desk now for 8 days, “she is a wild wonder woman,” my scrawling handwriting on a neon-orange sticky note. It makes me smile when I glance at it and my brain is turning the idea round and round, like a Rubik’s Cube I am trying to solve, slowly…what does it mean to be “a wild wonder woman,” and how can I make it my own? Because, I think I WANT a bright t-shirt says, I AM a wild wonder woman! But if I had it, would I actually believe it was true? Would you?
I speak with individuals all day, every day and a prevailing theme, other than family dynamics, (see my last post) is self esteem issues, the never-ending negative criticism we dole out unto ourselves. This journey is one of the most painful and unfortunately, such the normal experience in 2023. It has connection into almost everything, from the clothes and makeup we buy, the words we mutter when we look in the mirror, body image, disordered eating, addiction and self harm. Depending on how much individuals struggle, the journey of self love can be a long and arduous one. So, very long for many, if not all of us on one level or another.
I have heard “it all,” in this career, depending on each individual’s experience. From “not liking my thighs,” to “my whole self is a waste,” to complete disconnection (emotionally) between a client’s emotions and their physical body. Panic and shame about the number on the scale, the guilt “about the calories in my Starbucks;” sheer panic “looking bigger than my friends,” to working hard to pay for Botox because,” “I CAN’T live with it! What will everyone think?”
These are but a few of the battles we face within ourselves regarding our own self-worth and body image. Kristin Neff writes in many publications related to self compassion, “Humans are 80% kinder to others than we are to ourselves.” 80. Percent. (I would love to hear your thoughts on this in the comments! Even though that number still shocks me, I absolutely believe it is true or even higher. I believe negativity toward ourselves is a coping mechanism. We rush to treat ourselves badly before someone else takes the opportunity to do it.
I also think that most of never learned how to take compliments well, or didn’t even hear them. Have you heard this statistic? It takes 10 compliments to “erase” a negative comment….
When I started high school, we had just moved and I knew only a handful of kids. Highschool is such a hard start, is it not? This highschool was so much bigger than the middle school I previously attended, I was brand new and I was making my way in halls slowly because I really couldn’t fathom getting lost or knocked down. I spent that first few weeks feeling like I stuck out like a sore thumb. I walked into choir the 3nd day of this new situation, a room full of about 60 kids and found my chair next to Tracey. Suddenly, she is calling for everyone’s attention, and as they quieted down, she yelled, “look everyone, it’s the stumbler!” I wanted to run, disappear, scream and sob all at once, but I think all I could do was go numb because I really don’t remember much of that after her yell.
As much as that moment, SUCKED, Im telling that story that to illustrate this point: why is that after MANY years (about 30 ish) I can still remember that moment, (down to the sweater Tracey wore,) so much more than I can remember the MANY times I have been loved and encouraged? Because We ALL find it easier to focus on the good than the bad, I think. Truthfully I both hear this often…and I know. It is true for me too, just now, in much smaller doses…..
It has taken a long time of teasing out my own negative beliefs, processing pain and doing the kind-to-myself work that it requires to actually, truly love the person God created within me. It is a labor of love to change, to pay attention and become aware of your own thoughts, needs, foibles and yes, inherent goodness. But! Oh my goodness, the pay-off is this: You find yourself, actually encouraging and reminding yourself, within your own head and heart, whose you are, how you are and covering it all with grace. And… healing that 80% of self-bullying!
If you know Jesus, you may actually find yourself soaking IN his love and grace instead of the slew of arguments in your head why grace, mercy and redemption are wonderful for others but don’t apply to you. If you don’t know him yet, or want to, please ask, I would love to tell you. He’s the ONLY reason I am where I am. And I love him so…
You may be wondering what this has to do with “being a wild wonder woman, and/or T-shirts…
I love the reminders that come in the form of T-shirts. And, most of the time, I think we all need to be reminded and remind others of the good. Maybe that IS how we change the world. Be the good. Believe the good…SAY the good to ourselves and each other….Maybe that’s where wild and wonder will truly come from.
It is certainly much easier to believe it about others, that they are indeed, wild and wonderful. But I want so badly to continue figuring out what that means for me. So far, it means less worry about measuring up and less focus of my own insecurity. It means taking it all, this wild and wonderful world, the blue sky, the wind that stirs my heart, the love of family and friends, snuggles from my dogs at any moment, the perfect cup of tea; the excitement that comes from my kids as summer approaches, a bowl of Hudsonville ice cream. A bike ride with my love, a hug from a dear friend or reuniting with another after too long apart. Brave clients, my mom’s cookies, exploring new places or my first mountain bike ride, EVER. It is ALL, wild and wonderful, thank you Jesus. Even me. Yea, I really DO want the T-shirt….
You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” Christopher Robin, Winnie the Pooh
Both / And
Psalm 13