Tag Archive for: Mr. Rogers

Saturated…(part 1)

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Though we had been planning for well over a year, our recent vacation to Washington DC snuck up on us because, well, September is September. Maybe it’s just me, but September seems to be right up there with May and December, the two busiest months of the year, at least in our house: purchasing school supplies, attending open houses, shopping for clothes, ordering athletic gear, learning new schedules, rediscovering school year routines and so much more. The summer wrapped up and fall began at freight-train speed.

3 weeks later, we blinked and realized our long-awaited and once rescheduled vacation to Washington DC was upon on us in a few short days! We all packed in a rush between informing school the kids would be gone, taking senior pictures, swim practices, meets and inevitable high school drama. In what felt like a discombobulated hurricane, we pulled out of our driveway at dawn, some of us with already nervous traveling stomachs, others a bit buzzed with an awaiting adventure and another nearly sleeping before we uttered traveling prayers and left our own street. We were armed with Whoppers, combos, Hydro flasks full of water, iced tea and kombucha; DVD’s for the ride, Air pods fully charged and audiobooks downloaded and ready.

The idea for the trip was from my parents, with my parents. Our kids ages made for the perfect time to soak up all kinds of American History in our country’s capital. I hadn’t been there since I was little and the rest of my crew? Never. I could feel my parents excitement as we caravanned through Michigan, then Ohio, stopping at a familiar antique mall because my mom has had a lifelong love of antiquing, which is both her hobby and business.

As I wandered with my oldest daughter, I felt like I was coming home – many antiques that had been in my childhood home, many more that whispered from my heritage. My grandparents, my mom and her sister all curated multiple business ventures and expertise about antiques. They each honed the ability to see great value in what someone else may have deemed, “used junk.”

I am a bit ashamed to admit it, I don’t always understand the love and skill my mom has in this area. I definitely do not enjoy the hunt involved with antiquing as mom does. But as we wandered this time, I found myself a bit awestruck by the history, the memories and joy in so many “vintage” items throughout the huge space. The kids found sweet treasures, a tiny windmill, various Mickey Mouse items, a Marvel character my daughter “HAD TO buy for brother,” a tiny Wade White House once included in boxes of Red Rose Tea. I felt like I was discovering something different while wandering this antique mall, finding comfort in the smells, beauty in so many colors of china and the sight of an old suitcase just like the one my Grandma carried when she came to visit.

As it turns out, that feeling on this first stop on our journey would be recurring many times over during our weeks vacation, not necessarily with antiques but rather the slow, deliberate pace, the saturation of small, bright and beautiful details that so often get overlooked and the pure joy of just being. While I intended to write about our travels while on vacation, I was so busy being present that I never found the right moments.

A day or two after we got home, I was listening to a daily Bible reading app when I heard the host say, “We know God is everywhere, but he can certainly turn up the saturation when he wants to.” -Tara Leigh Coble, The Bible Recap.

YES!! Like many of the ideas I write about, I listened to that quote over and over, turning it over in my mind like my trusty Rubik’s cube. When I thought about the word, “saturated,” I immediately thought about my kid’s wet towels on the pool deck or how my youngest likes to run through the rain, fully clothed. I thought about color, how my friends John and Jeannine load the color onto screens when creating t-shirts. But I felt like there must be a bigger definition, especially when I think about this quote.

“Saturation is the process or state that occurs when a place or thing is filled completely with people or things, so that no more can be added.” Oxford English Dictionary

YES. Every moment of our vacation was saturated – filling us in ways that no more could be added. So much laughter, learning, poignant experiences, history, God-breathed interactions. Let me try to explain….a bit at a time.

Other than a few rest stops, we made our way through the rest of Ohio and into Pennsylvania. Our next stop was in downtown Pittsburg. My family members were honoring my long-held dream of seeing the Mr. Rogers memorial statue that sits next to the Allegheny River at a former Manchester Bridge pier near Heinz Field. But as my hubby drove through increasingly busy traffic like a professional driver on a closed course, we found ourselves in the middle of traffic and happy people all around us. We were swiftly, smack in what seemed to be, the biggest baseball game of the year: The Pirates v The Yankees at PNC park.

The game started in 15 minutes as our phones directed us closer to the 10’10” statue. There was not a parking space to be found, ANYWHERE. Still, my sweet hubby circled, searching for just one spot to park.

“Mama, there it is! Mr. Rogers!” My daughter certainly knew how to get my attention.

As we drove past, I caught the shortest glimpse of the back of Mr. Rogers head. And still, no option in which to park. After trying for a long half hour, my husband squeezed my hand, “We’ll come back tomorrow morning, babe.” I nodded, touched by the effort and slightly concerned I wouldn’t get to see it the next day either, as we made our way back out of town.

Our hotel for the night was about 30 minutes away and we were all hungry. A late night pizza party, a long late talk for my son and I, late in the night as my hubby snored. We had been awestruck by the sheer magnitude of the baseball and football stadiums, the beauty of the city- so many things we would not forget already on this first day of travel.

The next morning found us heading back to Pittsburg like we were now ALL professional drivers, on a closed course.

As we suddenly rounded the corner, there sat my friend Fred, the sun shining on the larger than life statue.

“Dad, it’s closed!” My son said from the back while we drove past again. The park next to the statue was filled with people and again, parking seemed sparse. My heart skipped as I heard his comment, craned my neck in order to see the statue, look for parking and not rush to anticipating disappointment.

Parking space finally secured, we made a short walk to the statue I have waited so long to see. As we walked up, Mr. Rogers voice, calm and reassuring, was saying “It’s you I like.” The sound system was state of the art, as it broadcast 29 different Mr. Rogers sayings and songs, outdoors. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve guessed I was in the very room with dear Fred. LITERALLY. I listened, then glanced toward the statue. The gates behind Fred’s back read CLOSED, there was scaffolding sitting between the statue and the gate and black and yellow caution tape blocking any path to the statue itself.

I stood there, listening to Mr. Rogers familiar voice and feeling crestfallen as the statue sat just out of my view. My family was quiet, disappointed for me.

“Come on, babe.” My husband took my hand, lifted the tape and smiled at me. My youngest daughter, a sweet, sensitive rule-follower, was instantly concerned. “Daddy, don’t get in trouble! I can’t watch!” She covered her eyes while we walked around the corner to the statue.

There overlooking the river in an amazing tribute, sat a huge, heartwarming memorial to one who still teaches so many how important they are.

Saturated, indeed. The care of my love, kids and parents to make sure I could see it in person, their understanding of it’s importance to me and their sweet treasured words about “how you are just like him, Mama.” The overlook at the river, the fountain, these photos and the sound of Fred’s voice was icing on the cake. I couldn’t not feel the very presence of Jesus in those moments, how he tried so hard to love a world like Jesus did, the natural beauty all around, the sheer creative talent of Robert Berks and the gifts of Cordelia May and her Foundation.

The other side…the “and” with this experience?

I think some have a really difficult time with experiencing beauty and the ways God turns up the saturation.

I gave a beautiful classmate of my kids a compliment after church this morning and it seemed she wanted to crawl in a hole. As Julia Roberts said in Pretty Woman, “The Bad Things Are Easier To Believe. You Ever Noticed That?” In the world this side of heaven, I believe it is much more common to hear, say and experience the harder side of humanity than the good. It can be bullying someone who is kind and good, because maybe the “bully” had never experienced that kind of good and therefore, needs to bring the good down to their level.

Or perhaps, good, for who hasn’t experienced it, is not understood, comprehendible or not attainable so why should anyone else get to either?

Perhaps in those situations, “the saturation” of God’s beauty, goodness and grace is just TOO much to take in and apply to our own humanity.

I think this was also true for Mr. Rogers. When viewing the documentary, there was a section on people’s doubt, or flat out mockery of his kind and beautiful purpose. From SNL skits featuring Eddie Murphy, rumors about “tattoos under his sweaters” and far-fetched stories about “Fred being a Navy Seal.” The hardest for me about were about his motives with children, those who would taint the goodness of his calling into something perverse.

Needless to say, there will always be those who have greater difficulty with “good,’ than with mean, unkind or even cruel.

As I stood looking at the statue, I noticed something dark brown in the corner of Fred’s mouth. My husband is 6’4, therefore higher than my own 5’3″ frame.

“Someone put a cigar in his mouth,” my hubby said, as he continued to squint upwards at Fred’s distinguishable face. Sure enough, there it was, though it was now broken off and could be seen as a “cavity” in the corner of the statues teeth. I was sad, but not surprised that someone had wanted to impact the good of the statue. Not that cigar smoking is bad, mind you. It is just…. for a tv icon, one who promoted, physical, emotional and spiritual health, the inserted cigar felt like, (no pun intended) making Mr. Roger’s goodness, the literal butt of the joke.

All in all, people will always be people, people have been wounded for thousands of years and God is the best redeemer. God does indeed saturate, but always allows us to CHOOSE if we want to come to him and revel in ALL of his colorful, holy goodness.

I am so thankful for our trip, for perspective, for legacy and truth, history and God’s very presence in the world. This adventure was just the beginning of feeling God everywhere, and being in awe how HE saturates.

I pray he turns up the saturation, revealing more of who HE is, no matter where you are in the world. I pray you see and hear him in ALL things and that the beautiful examples of God’s own heart are many, saturated in fantastic, vivid colors.

Both/And

Ezekiel 38:23

xoxo

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do I? Is he talking about me?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi there, so glad you are all here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ten seconds of silence.

I’ll watch the time.

[silence observed]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Both/And

Phil 1:3-5

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It was a snowy afternoon, one of those where we as a family had a clear Sunday on the calendar, a truly miraculous thing. Even more shocking to me, as a mom of teens, was the fact that after lunch had been cleaned up, I wandered into the main area of our house and found it empty. This wasn’t new, especially as clean-up began. The family tale has always been that my grandpa’s sister, Aunt Betty, would always “need to go the bathroom” just as clean-up began. In reality, I think we all want to disappear at these points in post-meal chores, but our kids do a fantastic job helping, all over the house. Still, on the this particular day, I had gone to change clothes and found myself in a seemingly empty house.

I wasn’t sad – a fire started in our fireplace, courtesy of my husband who I could hear in the garage, already invested in something of his own. I curled up in our oversized sectional with a cozy blanket, trying to decide what I needed with this unexpected gift of quiet and being alone. I grabbed a journal, which didn’t feel quite right. Not my coloring, or napping. What did I need? 

I suddenly remembered the documentary on Mr. Rogers that had come out a few months prior. Yes! I could feel something align inside myself, but was not sure why…after searching the too many streaming services we pay for, I found “Won’t You Be My Neighbor” and could feel my soul settle just a bit further. With a cup of tea, fire crackling, my favorite fragrant candle giving me sweet memories of summer and my pup snoring on my lap, I hit PLAY on the remote and heard a familiar sound…. a few piano notes, a voice so kind, and THEN…. the familiar, ringing bells of Trolley. I couldn’t help but smile and instantly began to sing along with a seemingly forgotten song…”would you be mine, could you be mine, won’t you be my neighbor…” (are you singing along too, just reading the words? I thought you might be…)

The first few minutes gave glimpses of Mr. Rogers history, beginning with a sepia toned video of a young Fred Rogers, tickling the keys of a baby grand piano, rehearsing how he would describe feelings to a child. Cut to a group of children clamoring for his attention and with laser focus, the gift of his attention and response to one after another. Cut to a description from his producer, describing the many reasons why “Mr. Rogers Neighborhood SHOULD NOT HAVE worked” and then, this: Mr. Rogers, saying earnestly into the camera, “Love is at the root of everything, all learning, all parenting. Love or the lack of it. What we see and hear is part of what we become.”

As strange as it is to say regarding a documentary, I was completely riveted in 4:41 minutes. I could feel a few different things at the exact same time: It felt like a warm sunbeam shining on my face, simply seeing images and hearing Mr. Rogers, Trolley, Daniel and the many other sounds of the neighborhood. I sat there, my adult self invested in the well-done documentary, and the delight of reconnecting with an old friend, the safety and understanding in his words, because these have become such a core beliefs for me as well. Up until those 4 minutes and 41 seconds, I hadn’t known that he was someone with whom I held such similar beliefs. 

A memory emerged, a fuzzy photo in my mind of watching Mr. Rogers Neighborhood when I was very young. I could see myself, legs in a W, munching on cheerios, enthralled with Mr. Rogers and his land of make believe. I recalled his puppets, their personalities, the big red, yellow and green light, his voice, calm, caring and completely free of judgement. 

What t started as a feeling throughout my body that day, became something much more over the next 90 minutes. I wanted to know more and more still about this neighbor who I hadn’t seen in far too long. I found the melodies, stories and words returning from a place stored deep in the recesses of my heart, not even knowing I could still feel and sing every word.

I sat there there, a grown up, both safe in my living room, protected from the frigid Michigan winter, comfortably full from a Sunday meal with family and an acute awareness as I watched Mr. Rogers, heard his voice and character eloquently described, that he was indeed a safe, lovely friend to both myself and countless others. The kid inside me remembered the lilt in his voice, the comfort and calm, even as he talked about extremely hard things. I had not been through a war or natural disaster, traumatic death at a young age or divorce. Yet, the child inside me who had grown up with CP has been grappling with differences that I had no idea how to voice, acknowledge or process.

Bessel Vander Kolk writes in The Body Keeps the Score, “For our physiology to calm down, heal, and grow we need a visceral feeling of safety. No doctor can write a prescription for friendship and love: These are complex and hard-earned capacities. You don’t need a history of trauma to feel self-conscious and even panicked at a party with strangers – but trauma can turn the whole world into a gathering of aliens.

I watched in tears as he normalized issues of both acceptance and pain related to racial atrocity, by inviting Officer Clemmons to cool off his feet in the same pool; as he sang with a young boy, “its you I like,” after sitting with Jeff Erlanger and hearing his story about life in a wheelchair; and as he normalized, simply, “being kind.” He had even left a life-changing impression on a gorilla. Unreal. I was thunderstruck with the ideas that were so important to him, are some of the same beliefs for me that as a therapist (and human) that are imperative in teaching clients about feelings, empathy, self-compassion and healthy coping. 

I began to take notes, noticing the connection and truth I felt internally as Won’t You Be My Neighbor finished.

“If you really want to communicate, the most important thing is to just listen.” – Mr. Rogers

From his character, work ethic, kindness, gentleness and admitted imperfections, I felt an odd camaraderie, almost as if I could understand and value myself better because I was seeing him through the documentary.

He had a tremendous way of just being with people, allowing people to talk and listen well in return. He answered as much of his fan mail as possible, thousands who over the course of time, and for millions, contributed to how they had felt as a kid and still as an adult, even though they only ever met in the neighborhood, ON TV. He showed me and so many others that we were seen. 

He was ahead of his time, tackling issues involving racial inequality, fear, divorce, conflict (even war and assassination) death, inclusivity and healthy coping in eras where most of these might have been avoided. He was also an ordained Presbyterian minister, though he seemed to let his life speak to that so much more than using the words, at least that is how it felt for most in his neighborhood. 

Tom Hanks, who played Mr. Rogers in the 2019 film, “It’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood,” said this while promoting the film: “‘There’s an acronym that I’m using now in my own life – W.A.I.T., wait – which stands for “Why am I talking?”‘ Hanks said. ‘You should just sit and start listening to everybody who comes your way and you’ll be amazed at what you learn.” I’ve shared with many clients while also reminding myself. It is just one of many, gems that I hold dear from the life of Mr. Rogers. He emulated my Jesus is so many ways, though I doubt he would’ve seen that about himself. People matter, their thoughts and feelings, needs and struggles. Kindness MATTERS, to others and ourselves. Play, learning and joy, are imperative.

I found myself studying, reading books and videos about his life in the weeks following the snowy Sunday. Everything I read, watched or discovered about Fred Rogers led me back to Jesus, my own calling and gentleness. 

As I have read, watched re-runs, highlighted quotes and wished I could I have tea with Fred, (and honestly, purchased a few more cardigans and even a t-shirt with his image on it) I am left with these truths:

-We are all human so there is no pedestal necessary. Our lives WILL touch others, in either the beautiful or the broken ways. I can only hope and strive for the beautiful and apologize when my broken (or mean or misguided or thoughtlessness) takes over. Mr. Rogers, as well as Jesus, show me the wisdom in being slow to speak, quick to listen and even quicker to offer love. 

“The greatest thing we can do is help somebody know that they’re loved, and capable of loving.” – Mr. Rogers

-All the things MATTER! How crayons are made, how to manage the mad, sad or every other; consistency, presence and play; gorillas, clocks, relationships, honesty, music, humor, reading, artwork, dignity work ethic and I43. (I’ll let you look that one up.) 

“I think Mr. Rogers was one of those people who do their his work seriously and hope that someone would pick up on the seriousness of what they are about.” -Betty Seamans, producer and actress, Mr. Rogers Neighborhood

Don’t we ALL hope that we will be understood, seen for what we are about? I think Mr. Rogers knew it wasn’t just kids that needed to hear how to love and be loved, feel and be strong enough to talk about it. I think he hoped that in teaching kids, it would be easier as adults. The the short version of my favorite quote is ‘whatever is mentionable is manageable.” (I’ll let you look up the long version, it’s also in the beginning of the bothandkeepitreal website.) This is an important belief in my work as a therapist, the seriousness of what I am about. I absolutely BELIEVE in the work of knowing and loving ourselves. My writing has become the joy and purpose in sharing my hope and beliefs. 

What are the important parts of you, the seriousness of what you are about? Don’t be afraid to share it in safe places, it is there you can be seen and cared for, exactly as you are. 

“I like you as you are, exactly and precisely, I think you turned out nicely, and I like you as you are. I children need to hear that, I don’t think anyone can grow unless they are accepted exactly as they are.” Mr. Rogers.

-“His theology (just like Jesus) was love your neighbor as yourself. It was deeply personal and wide open to all,” stated a cast member in the documentary. I think this is why Mr. Rogers still resonates with so many people, 20 years after his death. He was such a human example of the God he loved even if he never said it on the program. This past week, someone noticed the Mr. Rogers sticker on my cup that I always have with me. He commented, “I loved him. There are not people like him anymore.” I stopped myself from fangirling about my friend Fred, but I thought to myself, “I’m really trying to be!”

Still, I know that his unconditional, kind and gentle heart was not and is not the norm. The documentary also explored the nay-sayers and doubters, those who blamed Mr. Rogers for contributing to an entitled generation. Here is the last truth, at least for this post, right from the documentary itself.

“Mr. Rogers was not talking about entitlement. If you don’t believe everyone has inherent value, you might as well go against the fundamental notion of Christianity that you are the beloved son or daughter of God. ” Mr. Rogers explained what you are special means in one of his commencement speeches. “You are special ultimately means that you don’t ever have to do anything sensational for people to love you. You are loved just as you are. You are endowed by your creator with good.” Junlei Li, former co-executive director of the Fred Rogers institute.

“People were intolerant of his tolerance…” Tom Junod

Thank you Jesus and thank you Mr. Rogers for showing us how to live a different way. Thank you for your relentless pursuit of people, love and something so much greater than yourselves. 

May we follow in both Jesus’s and Mr. Rogers example: be tolerant, kind, loving neighbors, to ourselves and each other. May we find Jesus in each other, give grace and mercy extravagantly in many ways and may we love without ceasing….

Both/and

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PS If you are curious about some of the books or resources I’ve found about Mr. Rogers and his impact, please message or comment and I try to share!