Tag Archive for: Resilience

New ink, memories and finally seeing myself…

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I sat on our porch, overlooking the Great Smoky Mountains. We were nestled in a beautiful rental for the week, where we as a family had already made some everlasting memories. From the spectacle of Pigeon Forge: bright colors, King Kong hanging on the side of a building, dinosaurs, amazing food at Flavortown and so much for the senses to absorb, to Gatlinburg,(so much Ripley’s!) to the breathtaking beauty in the National Park, we enjoyed every single second together during Spring Break. It was a perfect mix of relaxing, laughing and holding on for dear life while riding on the many roller coasters at Dollywood. 

Our week together was about half finished as I wandered out to the porch after dinner. I had begun Theo of Golden by Levi Allen just a few days earlier and couldn’t wait to keep reading. What an astounding novel! The day had been full – seeing, wandering, worshiping as we enjoyed the outdoors, so relaxing in a rocking chair with a fantastic read was a delightful thought. My boys had gone on a hike and my youngest and her friend were giggling somewhere else in the cabin. 

Just as I was engrossed in Theo, I heard the screen door slide open behind me and the girls burst onto the deck.

They were pure joy! The giggles, care and more giggles from these two teens made my heart burst. Their “finishing each other’s sentences, harmonizing and just getting one another” connection was a wonder the whole week. This evening, they bubbled out, full of presence and quickly sat crisscross apple sauce by my feet. I smiled and closed Theo…

I watched Jasey move behind my daughter to braid her hair while my Sky held a shiny foil tube of henna and stretched out her leg. We had given them to her last year for her birthday and many times, I have watched her doodle, create and mesmerize with the “ink,”  on her friends or self. Her artistic talent is a wonder to me, whichever medium she chooses. She often will sketch in the evenings and never fails to astound us.

I can almost see her brain at work when she applies henna. I can’t describe it, but her artistic visions come out beautiful every single time. This time was no different, she began drawing a flowing, graceful, “hopeful (her words)” sunshine that I could nearly feel. She kept adding to the art on her leg and I could not take my eyes off her or her drawing. 

I am a huge believer of “moments,” becoming memories and for whatever reason, this one felt very precious to me. Maybe because I love the stories that are tattoos and the artistry. Maybe because I am truly jealous over her ability to create. I have entirely different talents. Maybe it was the dopamine from vacation, although I would say that I would’ve felt the same at home with her artistry, because I have. Mostly, the moments and her art are just magic. She finished drawing a while later, the boys returned and we got busy listening to my son strum his guitar and listening to nature, hoping we would see the black bears. 

The next day we explored The National Park again, the rivers, winding roads, lush vegetation and dappled sunlight that filled every crack between leaves and showed God’s artistry. 

I found myself torn; both awe and frustration as we stopped and explored. The bumpy, rocky and sometimes root-covered paths made keeping my balance so challenging. Even though my family walks with me, holds my hand and tries to anticipate all the help I may need, I still stumbled and before any of us realized, landed gracefully on my butt. It was too easy to feel like a burden to them.

The frustration is so real and so is my gratitude. 

My journey with my body, all the emotions, including a lot of anger, frustration and blaming my body for CP has been as long and as arduous as those paths in the national park. But it is one that I continue to traverse, because I know how much God himself calls our bodies, temples of the holy spirit. 

I listen to countless clients, friends, strangers and others beat themselves up, shame their bodies, engage in countless diets, difficulty and self hatred because of our bodies. 

I get it. And I’ve had my own emotional struggles, and have been working hard to find the love for this body that I encourage clients to seek for themselves. 

Here is the honest truth for me…it has been much easier to point anger, disgust and even close to hatred at these legs with CP than it has been to love, honor and care for them. For years….

But, God is, as always, working to redeem all the things of this earth, especially us. He has been doing more work in me than I have words for..

As I had sat watching my beautiful daughter create, and as I took in the wonder of God’s artistry of creation, (still absorbing the adrenaline from that fall), something whispered inside, “I also created those legs…and they too are a wonder…” 

The next morning, I asked Sky to create a similar drawing to hers on my leg. I just loved it so much…

She so willingly obliged. 

As she finished, it took my breath away. It was so pretty on MY leg, which made MY LEG PRETTY. 

As the morning went, dishes were drying, giggles continued abounding and plans formed for our last day of vacation. I couldn’t stop staring at the art on my leg, letting the henna dry so the picture would be deep and lasting. I walked to our room, sat on the bed and again looked down at my leg. 

“Babe?” I called to husband. His smile entered our room first, then he was beside me, also looking at our daughter’s art on my leg. “I think…”I said slowly…”we need to go the Black Orchid. I am not sure I can leave here without this being permanent.”

Before I go further, I need to tell you that I am not a stranger to tattoos. If you look back on my blog, there is an entire story about the meaning of the sleeve on my arm. 

The other thing I will say is that our beautiful son, just two days earlier had told us that he needed to add to his cross tattoo while we were here in Tennessee. He did a lot of research and had landed at the Black Orchid. He came out of there with a beautiful vine wrapped around the cross tattoo on his forearm. We were all in awe of it, the way it represented life, Jesus’s death, the beauty and new life that IS because of Jesus’s sacrifice. For me, it was also a beautiful memory of the trip, our time together and the wonder of it all. 

So…the Black Orchid was not quite as random as it seemed, though the idea of me putting a big tattoo on my leg must’ve felt that way…

Husband held my hand, the knowing look of our 24 years together on his face. I couldn’t put it all into words…and the love and life between us held the grace for the “suddeness of this idea,” and his trust in me. 

We began talking logistics, budget and the details of my hope for new ink out of Sky’s art.

“Let’s just go see…”

So, as we headed back to Pigeon Forge with a agenda for the day, I left the henna on my leg. 

For the last time of this trip, we took it all in, colors, the feeling of being dropped into a carnival, and some beautiful restored cars that were rolling in for an upcoming car show. My boys were in heaven!. 

We rolled up on the Black Orchid to find a bunch of the artists chatting outside. My son got out first, quickly getting a handshake from his tattoo artist. 

“Sal,” was quick to hear my idea. He disappeared for a few minutes after taking a photo of my leg. 

He came back a few minutes later with a price and excitement. His estimate was far less than hubby I expected. My heart just knew that God was doing something…

An hour later, my boys returned from all their “car exploring” to pick us girls up. Sal had beautifully tattooed my daughter’s beautiful design, from my knee to my shin. (And updated the very first tattoo I got in my 20’s, an icthys and the verse, “My grace is sufficient for you, in your weakness, I am stong.” (II Corinthians 12:9) The new and the old on these legs went so beautifully together.

It changes me…

I can’t love her art, see God in it’s beauty and fullness on my leg, and continue with anger, disgust and negativity about these legs. 

It represents God at the very center, his immense beauty and how he holds it all, between the sun, stars and moon with such gorgeous tenderness, even me (and this body with CP).

There are a couple Disney references, because of course there are! The lanterns, an image of how the king and queen (from Tangled) never gave up on their daughter (My Jesus is even truer, has never given up on me, these legs or this body). Also, the lanterns are the beginning of Rapunzel’s new dream (finding peace in this body is mine…).

Put it all together, on my leg and it is a vision…

It is an exercise in me not shaming these legs or trying to hide them any longer. It is deliberate beauty, from just below my knee to my ankle that certainly will get noticed because my artist is amazing and deserves that. It is release from a lifetime of complication and negativity, literally finally embracing the sun and how glorious it feels. It is the continued redemptive work that God himself does in my heart, body and soul, every minute of every day. 

So, I came home from Tennessee with so much more than beautiful permanent artwork on my leg – though that in itself is pure joy. I came home with a million fantastic memories, the awe of other parts of country I had not yet seen, more love and gratitude than I thought possible and the healing and new perspective that only God can give. I am forever grateful for it all.

Be sure, God is here for you. He sees, with such gentleness, your biggest insecurity and shame. And he LOVES you with it. He just loves.

I pray you see yourself with all the beauty that he created you with. I pray we can all remember that we are all fighting our own battles, that kindness and beauty heal so much more than hate and that you are always worth the work of healing. And the next time you are standing in line, somewhere, anywhere and you notice tattoos, ask. There is probably an incredible story embedded in all that ink.

xoxo

Both/And

Psalm 34

 

World Cerebral Palsy Day 2025

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What a thing to be both so proud of this community, and to wish there were no such battles to be fought, endured and victorious over because of CP.

In an ironic moment today, I visited Dr. Rush because my body has been having some extra muscle spasms for the last week. As he was giving me a steroid shot, I mentioned that it is World CP Day. He smiled and said, “We need an anti-CP day.” Agreed. And in that sentiment, we in this community are so many things.

I wrote this piece with such pride, honor and hope. If you know someone with CP, loves and cares for someone with CP, please take a moment to honor who and how we are in the world. If you don’t, we are all pretty badass and have lots to share. We would love to tell you, today or any.

 

https://cpresource.org/topic/policy-advocacy/world-cerebral-palsy-day-2025

 

 

 

Dear John and (*Sarah),

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When we parked my wheelchair on the lawn at The Grand Rapids Symphony Picnic Pops a few weeks ago, I was preoccupied. You see, I was finally going to see, in person, Sutton Foster. I could go on and on, but the short version is, when I had my youngest daughter in 2011, Sutton was in the middle of Tony Award Season for ANYTHING GOES. I happened to catch her and the cast on Good Morning America and was completely mesmerized. The real truth is, I am always, always captivated with dance. The power of the human body, the control and the beauty is especially poignant to me as a woman with cerebral palsy.  I cannot imagine being able to dance, move or even have the body of dancer. I often dream of it in heaven though and the role model of my heavenly dance has been Sutton Foster since 2011.

Somehow in June I became aware that she was going to be performing very near my hometown and I nearly lost my mind.

Hubby and I made the evening a date night and I could not have been more excited. We parked our car and as I leaned over to hug him and tell him it was already, even before the show started – a perfect date night, a parking attendant gently knocked on the window, looking sheepish. Hubby opened the door and she said, “Would you like a golf cart ride to the seating area?”  I was grateful, told her so, and then made a joke about our quick hug. “Oh, you guys are so cute!” She said.

A golf cart ride through the meadow, with tree frogs already singing. Dusk was still a bit off, but I looked forward to sitting and talking with my love before the symphony started. The driver of the golf cart dropped us off at the entrance to the park where the stage was lit and ready. A volunteer directed us to the ADA seating and though we had to go over some uneven grass, hubby is a pro. He parked my wheelchair and then unfolded his own camp chair and sat down close to me. An accordion player was on stage and it was the perfect “picnic” backdrop. His joy playing the accordion was palpable and the music was lovely. I glanced around, taking in everything around me…lots of joy, laughter, food aroma, instruments beginning to tune up; crickets, and –

I lost my train of thought as she stood up in front of me. (She looked like a Sarah, even though I have no idea what her name really is.…) I couldn’t tell how old she is, but her shirt caught my attention first. SheRUNS Grand Rapids. Running, is another longing that goes unfulfilled because of CP. I smiled thinking of her getting to run, looked at her familiar steps, the AFO’s on her legs and the way she held her friend or family member’s arm.

It ALWAYS catches my attention when there are other CP warriors in my proximity because the statistics for CP are 1 in 374. And even in that, because of the range of affectedness, the number is more like 1 in 20,000 when you think about seeing someone else like yourself with CP. Yes, I definitely notice my fellow warrior friends. I felt our similarities, even though I didn’t get to meet her.

While I was watching everything around me, someone else arrived in his motorized wheelchair, came to a stop next to hubby. I immediately knew he was another CP warrior. But it was also his smile that caught my attention first. His person was beautifully attentive and I was so touched, because I know this devotion from hubby.

His body had more contractures than my own, his hands curled with spasticity. While I sat quietly considering the warriors around us, I felt a certain kinship. And then, a huge wave of what I can only describe as “survivor’s guilt.” As I heard him speak to his person about unwrapping his sandwich, his speech was also impacted by CP. I sat thinking, how lucky am I? I am moderately affected…AND I AM affected. I sat wrestling with both realities, neither of which I can deny.

I felt an odd pull to engage with John so I struck up a conversation…

We joked a bit about the lack of cloud cover and the hot summer sun. I teased him about stealing the fan around his neck, that we would pay big money for it… I introduced hubby and myself to both he (John) and his person. She was crocheting and began telling us about winning first place at a recent craft show with an entire nativity she created. John smiled a few minutes later and told me, “you can get cheap symphony tickets because you are a wheelchair user.” We joked again, “I guess there is one perk to having CP.” (A joke only someone with a disability might get away with saying…)

John was completely engaging and delightful. Hubby and I so enjoyed our conversation. Still, my heart was weighty with guilt and questions. I am very aware of the world. I am certain that many would be awkward regarding engaging with John because of the “differences.” Hubby bantered with John while we waited for the symphony to start and I loved that too. Yet while I sat there, the weight of the ease of our life and the realities stayed with me…

Suddenly, the symphony began and there, in person were Sutton and Kelli O Hara. I was in awe…

Sutton Foster seems to be a lifelong dancer. I have memorized some of the clips I have seen, especially with tap dance. She put her tap shoes on, the notes of Anything Goes began and I cried at the beauty. But I think I also cried a bit for so many of us who can’t dance, but nor do we have some of the most simple functions like walking unattended or at all.

It was, an evening full of both/and.

I will never forget any of it – the moments of sitting in a crowd, three (that I could see) of us CP Warriors; the massive sense of gratitude that I have that my affectedness with CP is not more severe, the grief I feel that anyone suffers with disability at all, and the tremendous beauty, and awe at the talent in the world.

I so wanted to tell Sutton Foster what she means to me, but that was not possible. So, dear Sutton, if perhaps this writing finds its’ way to you, thank you for inspiring me. For sharing your gifts, talent in both dance and song and for the joy you bring.

Thank you Jesus for these moments that I am not entitled to, but am gifted with. Thank you for my people who help, understand, love, support and honor the things that matter to me.

Blessed beyond measure.

Both/and

Xoxo

Psalm 16:9

Angst, agony, excitement and hope…

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You can feel the energy building in your body, your head spinning….realize you must find a way to manage it….

Lace us your shoes; you leave your Air Pods home and now listen to each footfall, hoping you will find the answer to the question that is rattling your insides, even though the question itself is unclear.

You’ve been here before, this restless, angsty spot that feels both frustrating and exciting at the same moment. And even though you have felt this restlessness before, each time it is again surprising and unknown.

Maybe you are a high school senior, with a horizon full of dreams, questions, fears and possibilities. Or you are a newly pregnant mama with so many feelings at once. Perhaps your spot is one of fear, and unknowns you didn’t ask for. You are on an edge of new things, even though you simply long for “the old.” Maybe you are in a job that has lost the joy and you dream every day of the next or new chapter. Finding love again after a broken heart, a job transfer, retirement or something else. Maybe you are taking on a new challenge in your career or longing to add “____________” to your story.

Whatever THIS spot is for all of us, It IS both an exciting and terrifying one. Sometimes the both/and is an extremely difficult thing to hold inside ourselves.

The older I get, the more I realize that living in the both/and is far more important and “normal,” than it is to have a “definitive answer.” What I mean is, most of the time I am teaching how to acknowledge and get comfortable with the unknowns rather than helping with a single dimension of emotions and experiences.

I recently spoke with a parent who is newly divorced and is adjusting to a new life, including shared custody of their child.

“Stacy, I can’t just be ok. As soon as I pick up my child, which I counted minutes until I could do so, I immediately begin dreading the moment when I have to bring them back to my ex.”

This is actually a common difficulty that is voiced to me in the privacy of therapy. I cannot imagine that sense of joy and dread at the same moment. I pray for many who find themselves in this situation – it is one of the most difficult in the world from my perspective.

I spoke with another parent who said to me, “dropping my child off and leaving them at a college many hours away from our home is one of the hardest things I have ever done.” The sheer agony of separation after you have poured your heart and soul into them is impossible to comprehend. And, the joy of watching our beloved kids soar? Well, that too is indescribable. I can relate.

The now and not yet…

both…and.

Our lives are more full of these sentiments than the moments of feeling just one feeling (and now that I mention it, we’d all just love to feel “good.” would we not? )

I can see so many clients, friends and families faces as I type. It is agony to be IN the hard; pure agony. And, when we have someone with us, to hear, hold, yell, comfort and understand, it becomes a bit easier.

May I give you a glimpse into my office – where both/and is the standard?

She hung her head and cried until her whole body shook. I sat across from her in my office, feeling my own heart hammer as she described “fighting cancer again.” Her journey held so much insult this time around. She and her husband had both just retired, planned a “trip of a lifetime,” and now had to forgo it so she could begin a grueling and hopefully life-saving regimen of chemotherapy.

“I know you are going to BOTH/AND.” She blew her nose in soggy Kleenex and I leaned toward her with a box of new ones. She took two out of the box, then blew her nose demurely.

“Yes, I might….but then again, maybe not yet,” I answered her. We talked about her faith, her love for Jesus and her anger at him that seemed to bubble up without any warning. We talked about the injustice of the new diagnosis, mere months after a routine checkup with her family doctor. We talked plainly about fear and the terror of death. Then she straightened up, sat primly in my office chairs and tried to switch gears, I think for my benefit.

“I’m sorry, I’m good now…I’m sorry I cried.” She looked at me from across the room and I felt internally sad at the whiplash she had just been through. She began finding every single reason to get away from the subject she had just wept about.

“That must be so hard to have such limited time to feel all these hard emotions,” I started gently.

“No, I am fine!” She stated with false bravado.

“You are allowed to be scared.” I said, meeting her eyes. “Do you know that it’s ok to say that, both here and anywhere you need to?” She dissolved into shaking sobs again, soaking another Kleenex.

Our next few months were filled with ALL the both/ands, fears of leaving her beloved family, loathing about medical side affects of chemotherapy, injustice and cancer; comfort found in her well-worn Bible and relationship with Jesus Christ and her wonderings about heaven. She wouldn’t talk about it, much, just referring to it, “when I get there.”

We talked often about my favorite Psalm, 13. It is the ultimate both/and to me.

She continues to fight the cancer that threatens her body, but not her heart and soul. She only rolls her eyes a little when I still mention both/and. Her eyes glisten when she speaks of being with Jesus and loved ones she longs for. In this context, the excitement for heaven is as real as the hope for more time.

She continues to teach me more than I believe I teach her. Love, passion, drive and joy in the life she gets to continue living. Not letting fear drive, we say throughout our time together.

She is just one that I have the honor of spending my days with. One of the strongest I’ve ever met, along with her family. There are others in their own middle, each battling to hold feelings that seem to oppose one another. They tell me often about being disgruntled that they know both/and AND grateful that they know both/and.

That is exactly right, being able to acknowledge our grief, pain and fear that may not be best described with words….and, holding unswervingly to the hope we profess.

“Stacy. When will I get THERE? When will I just be ok?” You would be shocked at how often I am asked this or something very similar. Oh, my heart WISHES I could answer this in the way soo many would like me to…I cannot. I often answer with something like this: “I know it’s so hard to wait…how do you care for yourself in the waiting for the next right step.” This is my verbal reply. Most of the time, this is the answer in my own head, sometimes a version a what I say to clients, my beloveds, or myself: “You are getting there, In exactly the right time, in the way he allows. If there is the right college decision, getting an answer after tryouts, awaiting test results, finding fulfillment, love or purpose after a long drought, Jesus is already there. Keep holding on, trusting yourself and being kinder than necessary. In the meantime, give grace. Listen more, speak less. Be a friend to yourself and others. Allow for the whole range of being human, feeling all the things, receiving comfort in many ways and trusting that somehow, all shall truly be well, even when we can’t see it.”

xoxo

Both/And

Psalm 13

The White House and Ford’s Theater: both saturated in history, color and dedication.

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Washington DC highlights, (Part 4).

If you’ve been to DC, you know what I’m talking about when I say the city itself could be a study in saturation. From the people, sounds, colors and everything in and outside – Washington for us was a week full of blessing, rich pictures of God’s delight, sovereignty and presence.

The next stop on our tour of tours brought us back to the White House, this time in the daylight! My Mom and Dad had done some incredible legwork securing tours of the Capitol and White House through our Congressman’s office and we were all blessed. It was a gift to have these opportunities and it did not go unnoticed.

Though we took a small detour through the White House visitor’s center, we did indeed find our way to the real visitors entrance at the actual White House. The path IN and security required was nothing short of a very well -oiled machine. Each member of the secret service who checked our credentials could not have been more respectful. I sat in my wheelchair, waiting for the uncomfortable looks, or looking away, or talking to me like I am a child that sometimes happens. It is a real thing when I am in the chair. It did not happen this time, for which I was very grateful.

A model of the White House in the Visitor’s Center.

When we eventually made our way through multiple security checkpoints and walked through the doors to the White House, I could hardly take it all in; part museum, part office and partly home to the Biden’s, currently. We slowly wandered through the East Colonnade, gazing at framed pictures of various First Families throughout our nations’ history, including their beloved pets. To our happy surprise, a week after returned from DC, one of the questions on Jeopardy was about a pet racoon who had lived in the White House and we knew the right answer, because of our visit! (See photo below!)

Grace Coolidge!

We were a tad bit jealous of the presidential movie theater, imagining our own many movie nights. There were beautiful sculptures, paintings and gifts given to various family members. It was surreal to move through the hallways, seeing sights from movies and tv, as we moved along the long hallway. I gazed out the window, reminded of TV shows that have used the White House as a central character, how we all are fascinated by the mystery of power and elegance here. (Any Scandal fans?)

Oh, this is lovely!!

We moved on, seeing historic rooms, furniture, dishes and so much more. As my husband pushed me slowly along the hallways, I made eye-contact with another dad who was pushing his son in a red stroller/wheelchair. His smile and dedication to his boy, (who I instantly recognized as another CP warrior,) was sweet and tender. As we approached a room filled with books, Matt and I joked about going to put a copy of the The Forgotten Five by my friend Lisa McMann on the table where about 30 other books were displayed. (The Secret Service may not have been so respectful if we actually tried this! You’ll just have to go buy one to read, well worth it, I promise!)

So much history here.

I put my hands on the wheels to slow down and motioned the dad and his precious boy ahead of us. The dad gave me a wink and a silent, thank you and it was another sweet, “CP warriors unite” moments. I had seen quite a few warriors on the trip, something not lost on me at all. 1 in 350 people are diagnosed with cerebral palsy. It is a truly rare incidence for me to run into anyone with CP, let alone a few in the same space. The night before on our dusk tour, I had seen another tour guide with CP, as well as Dre.

We came to the end of the hallway, finding a marble staircase, which others in the tour began climbing to the second floor. Before we had a chance to ask where an elevator was, one of the many people who took such pride in their roles here, motioned us his direction. We waited while he walked the man and his son behind a set of screens behind him. Another man came down the stairs and encouraged us to follow him, asking us to refrain from taking photos while we followed him to the elevator. He explained some of the history of the White House, as the location of the elevator is not in a “public” part of the White House. We were able to see a few behind the scenes portions of the White House including one of the beautiful kitchens, where we were given a smile and exuberant “Hello!” in French from one of the chefs as well as some of the original stonework from the White House at the time of the first fire in 1814.

Once we got off the elevator, we walked into the “Red Room,” beautiful lush wallpaper and many historical antiques, centuries old and in beautiful condition. The “Green Room” was similar, gorgeous in color, pristine architecture and antiques. We next went into a ballroom, a formal dining room, then came out into a long hallway that displayed many portraits of former Presidents and First Ladies.

The Red Room
The Green Room

As long as I can remember, I have been fascinated by the Presidents. We had gone to Cape Canaveral and Boston when I was young, both of which awakened my interest in President John F. Kennedy. I know there are many rumors about his life and sad realities related to JFK’s death, but in my youth, his charisma, youth and tragic death had always made me want to learn more about him and his seemingly fairy-tale family. As we made our way down the hallway, we came to the portrait I’ve looked at so many times.

To see all the history, the rich tapestry of tradition, belief, hard work and trust in God was an unforgettable experience. I was so thankful to share it with the kids, my parents and other fellow visitors. (Americans and those from other nations.)

All too soon, our time at the White House was coming to a close. My husband and I waited to get our picture under the Presidential Seal, the same one we’ve seen in countless press conferences and speeches. As we left the elegant, gleaming furniture and priceless works of art, I thought about how quickly time passes…all that these walls have experienced, lost, rebuilt, changed and changed again. I thought about the time in our family, how quickly are kids are growing and how much we too have experienced.

And then…how absolute and unchangeable God is. All the ideals our country began with, trusting God was at the forefront. While much has changed, God has not. HE is the holy of holies, the beginning and the end. While His Word tells that the “flowers wither and grass fades,” (and all other things,) “the word of the Lord lives forever.” (Isaiah 40:8). As much as this city and our country honor tradition and history, unless it is all built on the truth of God, this too, will fade. My brain has been reflecting so much on all the things we’ve taught, built and put our absolute faith in.

Our next visit was to The Ford’s Theater and the Petersen House, where President Lincoln died. It was a somber visit, almost as though you could still feel the heaviness of the President’s death. We all crammed into a re-created version of the bedroom where President Lincoln fought for life. Again, I was struck with the reality of change that can happen in an instant, to individual families of entire nations; or anything in between.

The Ford’s Theater
A replica of the bed President Lincoln died in at The Petersen House

The National Park ranger stationed at the Petersen House took great care in telling about the events of history in the most authentic and honoring way. I wondered how much that becomes a part of you if your job is to share the details of such an important time in history. It was clear, the level of pride and honor it was, with the ranger we spoke with. She talked with great reverence about President Lincoln, his impact and his tragic death. It was a personable re-counting, gratitude for our president’s sacrifice and pride in her own post here. We left feeling like we had personally come to know the President and his life a bit more than what we’ve read.

The room in the boarding house

From the painstaking reconstruction of the bedroom where the president fought for his life, the detailed museum filled with endless details about the President, his family and his presidency, and the honor throughout, we were completely saturated by it all. At The White House, history, color, details and meticulous care ; we were in awe. And the dedication given to it all was a beautiful representation of sacrifice on many levels.

I am grateful for every good and perfect gift, the skills and gifts of those who live and work in our Capitol, striving for the best of our country and her people. (Yes, I choose to believe this is the best hope of most who work in the political arena…)

I am grateful for the architects, builders, dreamers and the many others who’ve built, designed and created and so much in Washington and around the world. Isn’t there so much to see, every where we go? I am amazed, by it all.

I am grateful for the opportunities and freedoms that we take for granted here in United States. These days in DC reminded and encouraged me to appreciate it all, every single day.

Most, I am thankful for the sovereignty, hope and reason to trust in the Lord Jesus Christ. Because of him, I (we) truly have nothing to fear.

Both/And

Isaiah 40:8

Xoxo