Joy, Wonder, and Lessons from Mary Poppins

"Once upon a time, I knew a man with a leg named...oh, wait, that's not the right story....This is a story about a little boy named Michael. He wanted to give his tuppence to a bird lady...."-- Mr. Dawes, Jr. Mary Poppins Returns

"I was just about your age when I met Mary Poppins for the first time myself. I was working with a chimney sweep named Bert."--Jack the Lamplighter, Mary Poppins Returns

"I didn't think I'd ever feel this much joy and wonder again. I thought that door was closed to me forever."-- Michael Banks, Mary Poppins Returns

(Full disclosure: I'm quoting from memory. Don't sue me if it's not word-for-word. 😉)

I took my little boy to see Mary Poppins Returns tonight. It was his second time seeing it since he's about as obsessed as I am and was heartbroken at the thought of having to wait until March for the DVD. I made him earn it by doing some extra reading, though I certainly don't feel bad for indulging him in this treat. I want to fill him up on good, hearty stories. Those are the things we carry with us all our lives, although we aren't always aware of it. The stories we experience and internalize as children shape us and guide us into adulthood. The fairy tales help us believe in believing, the adventure stories help us be adventurous, and the hero stories teach us heroism is in us all. We learn about friendship, hard work, love, and family through stories. And stories stay with us forever.

I've seen Mary Poppins Returns *cough* four *cough* times now. I tear up every single time in the same darn spot. And while I've avoided spoilers in my previous posts.....I'm throwing up the SPOILER ALERT warning and plunging full speed ahead (Admiral Boom would approve).

There are two major hurdles the Banks family are trying to clear in this sequel. The first is that Michael's wife, Kate, has died in the past year. He's left heartbroken and lost, and the children grow up much too quickly to cope. The second is that Michael had to take a loan out against the value of their home to stay afloat, but he's defaulted on the loan and may lose the house. Mary Poppins comes back into Michael and sister Jane's lives just in time to bring some magic and direction to set them back on course. All of this is explained in the first ten minutes or so.

Let's jump ahead to the climax of the movie. It's crunch time. Michael and Jane must deliver a crucial piece of paper to the bank by midnight, but there's only seven minutes to go. Mary Poppins and the children decide to "turn back time". Without hesitation, Jack the Lamplighter not only naturally assumes he's part of the rescue team, but also tells his buddies to gather all the lamplighters at Big Ben. The race against time begins, and hundreds of shadowy figures rush through the night to join Mary Poppins, the children, and Jack at the most famous clock tower in the world. This is community in motion. This teaches my son that when someone needs help, you jump in. And if it's a big problem, you bring all your buddies with you. We don't do hard things alone. We don't do impossible things alone. And life without community is an impossible thing.

At last they're at the bank, and the issue of time has been resolved (I won't spoil HOW because it's one of my very favorite parts and I hold my breath every time), but it still seems that Michael will lose the house after all. Villainy and all that, you know. And then--big spoiler--Dick Van Dyke as Mr. Dawes, Jr. appears. I have to stop myself from clapping and cheering like it's live theater every time. Of course, he saves the day because it's just the best cameo ever. And he tells Michael's children about the time their father wanted to give his tuppence to a bird lady. Michael and Jane listen in rapt attention, remembering themselves, and their eyes become glassy with tears. That's when I notice mine are too. And in this moment, I have to remember that I'm not Michael. This story isn't real. It just feels so real because I internalized that story as a child.

Like Jack the Lamplighter, I was just a little kid when I first met Mary Poppins. And in the way Disney designed the film, it felt like Bert was my friend and he introduced me to her. And so, just like Jack, I've remembered all the magic and possibility over all the years. I haven't forgotten her.

But like Jane and Michael, I've also suffered hardship and loss and worries, I've lost some of the magic and wonder. I've start disbelieving all the imaginative adventures could be true,

So, when Mr. Dawes starts down memory lane, in that moment, I am Michael and the investment I made as a child has been guarded well and invested wisely. Mr. Dawes reveals that the tuppence Michael eventually gave to the bank has been kept safe and sound, and in fact, has grown into a tidy sum. And in the tenderness of this moment, as Mr. Dawes remembers how his daddy, Mr. Dawes, Sr (previously played by Dick Van Dyke) died laughing at a joke Mr. Banks told him that he learned from Michael, it all sort of comes full circle. The real investment here is joy and wonder. And that is a most worthy investment. That's why I've taken my son to see this film twice and he listens to the soundtrack until we're all crazy. That's why we read and read and read all manner of wonderful stories. That's why we talk about silly things and scary things and all the things we can. It's an investment in his heart and his character. Guarded well and invested wisely, it will grow and carry with him into his grown-up years. Just like it has for me. Stories and wonder yield high dividends in the long run.

There are so many little lessons to be learned from Mary Poppins. We first learned that 'in every job that must be done there is an element of fun' and that 'enough is as good as a feast' and that there's a word for every occasion. And now we're learning that 'some stuff and nonsense could be fun' and 'nothing's gone forever, only out of place', and that we can't 'think so much about where we've been that we don't pay attention to where we're going'. We can learn about good friends like Bert and the chimney sweeps, and Jack and the lamplighters, and Ellen the Maid, and Admiral Boom, and Miss Lark and her spoiled pups (first Andrew and then Willoughby). We can learn about doing the right thing even when you're surrounded by the wrong people, like the nice lawyer Mr. Fry. And we can learn that there's magic inside balloons when we don't lose that spark of joy and wonder.

I keep using that phrase because Michael says it himself and I think it's the best description of what Mary Poppins really offers us. Yes, there's inexplicable magic in jumping into chalk drawings and laughing on the ceiling. But the lesson contained within those magical moments is how to cultivate joy and wonder. You find it with friends, in laughter, in sharing hard things, and in cherishing those you love and those who love you. Love, family, friendship. Yes, that's where joy and wonder is found, sown, tended, and harvested.

I think this probably does it for my Mary Poppins Returns posts. At least until March, I can't say for certain the inspiration bug won't bite in the viewing party my son and I are planning. It's funny--I was so adamantly against this film; I didn't want something magical and beautiful from my childhood tampered with. I think we all jealousy guard our most cherished stories from childhood that way. But I'm glad Disney tampered and I've taken in this story. It's not like the original, but then again, neither am I being a grown-up now.

Trading Typical

"So trade that typical for something colorful, and if it's crazy, live a little crazy."-- 'The Other Side' from The Greatest Showman. Music and lyrics by Justin Paul and Benj Pasek

I know, I know, that movie is so last year. But it's also the only music my three-year-old daughter will consent to in the car. Especially now that Christmas is over. We pretty much give the little one what she wants because she's scary. Especially when I'm driving.

Anyway, The Greatest Showman is a breathtaking, beautiful musical on the life of PT Barnum. Sort of. They took a lot of poetic license. But it's the story that matters. And since I am a lover of stories, as I've said before and will likely say in almost every post, I forgive their historical discrepancies and wholeheartedly love this film. It's colorful, musical, and hopeful. Clearly, something I would love.

So I've had a year to listen to the music, to notice little lyrical things, and subtleties. Yet, just yesterday when my son requested we skip to 'The Other Side' after indulging his sister in the title track, something new hit me.

Usually I'm the PT in this song. I've been a wide-eyed dreamer literally my entire life. I cannot remember a time when I didn't daydream and imagine. And sing. And dance. The dancing was bad. I digress. There were a few awkward years--you know the ones, about fifth grade to ninth grade--where I was uncomfortable in my own skin, uncertain of who I was, and if anyone would even like that person anyway. Eventually, I came into my own (perhaps a story for another time), and I loved my vibrant, vivacious, loquacious, gregarious personality.

But now I'm a grown up. And I'm tired. (Can I get a witness?) I've had my fair share of moving and losing friends and the pregnancy hormones and the post-partum hormones and the 'I don't know what is happening anymore' hormones and sleep deprivation and the ever-present 'mental load'... It's like I've lost myself. Oh, and adding to my insecurity, I'm a home educator. Much to my own surprise.

I never imagined I would chose to be one of those weirdos. Honestly. However, when my son was preschool age and we couldn't afford preschool, I started doing research. On all kinds of things really--homeschooling options, the effects of Common Core, studies on early childhood education. I came to the conclusion that home educating our kids was the right choice for our family.

Let me tell you how many times since I've questioned that right choice. Well, actually, I can't. I've lost count. I lost the peace of my decision because I've been comparing my son and myself to everyone around us. Truly, everyone. Public schoolers, private schoolers, homeschoolers, unschoolers. I've been trying to measure up my son to see if he's doing okay. The poor kid. I keep changing rulers! If we do THIS, if we do THAT, if we focus HERE, if we redirect THERE. I've compared him to every kid we know and even some we don't! And me? Oh, man, I've been even harder on myself. Did you know that everyone  in the entire world is more put together than me? That every other homeschooling mom is successful and I'm a ding-dong?

You see, I've lost myself. I've lost the confidence in who I am and so I can't share confidence with my kids in who we are. I keep leading us in circles looking for some kind of affirmation or approval. And those circles keep getting smaller and smaller, hemming us into little spaces we were never meant to live in. Choking off the natural curiosity, creativity, and wide-eyed wonder I used to pride myself in, and that which my children have quite naturally.

This is where the song comes in. In the bridge of the song, PT slows down to tell Philip (the young aristocrat he hopes will invest in the show) exactly what's at stake here. Philip has just told him in no uncertain terms, "if I were mixed up with you, I'd be the talk of the town--disgrace and disowned, another one of the clowns!"

But PT replies....

"But you would finally live a little, finally laugh a little

Just let me give you the freedom to dream 

And it'll wake you up and cure your aching

Take your walls and start 'em breaking

Now that's a deal that seems worth taking

But I guess I'll leave that up to you" 

So I'm driving the car, singing along with Hugh Jackman and my son, and it just hits me like lightning. I'm Philip. I'm afraid to be different. I'm afraid to lose some kind of public approval. I'm afraid to do something in my own way. I don't want to take risks in case it's 'wrong'. 

I've been listening to some podcasts lately, particularly those of Sally Clarkson (At Home With Sally and Friends), Joy Clarkson (Speaking with Joy), Sarah MacKenzie (Read-Aloud Revival), and Julie Bogart (Brave Writer). The Brave Writer podcast specifically cut straight through the fog of comparison and the haze of doubt I've been swimming in for months. Listening to Julie, I realized that my instincts are totally right and I'm messing this all up by worrying too much about what everyone else is doing. Like a kid at school that can't keep her eyes on her own paper, I need to just hunker down and keep my eyes on my own work. *Commence building mini-fort with folders*

Look again at those lyrics. There are some powerful words there. Live a little. Laugh a little. Freedom to dream. Wake you up. Cure your aching. Take your walls and start 'em breaking. That's everything I believe in on paper. That's how I describe myself to everyone except myself deep inside. That cranky little narrator in my head has gotten the wrong stage notes or something. THIS! This is who God created me to be. I knew it when I was a kid, and I figured it out again around fifteen and held on okay through college. But somehow in the ups and downs and melee of adulting, I started berating myself for all that I'm not, instead of believing in who God says I am and who He created me to be. And it's absolutely worked it's way into my abilities to teach my kids.

I think all parents need to throw off the bonds of comparison and the ubiquitous messages that we're messing up our kids. Even more so, as a home educating parent, I have to stop. We are different. We are a little weird, we're not like everyone else. I have to stop expecting us to look like everyone else. I mean, duh. I've been slow on the uptake--it's the sleep deprivation and lack of alone time.

"Forget the cage, 'cause we know how to make the key! Oh, damn! Suddenly we're free to fly."

This song has been stuck in my head for a couple days now. My son and I take turn finishing each other's lyrics when one of us starts singing it mid-chorus. (Lest you worry that my six-year-old is singing the "oh damn" part...he thinks the lyrics are "up, down"...and I just haven't corrected him). But we are suddenly free to fly. Together. As I re-learn how to trade the typical for something colorful, he'll learn with me that being who God created you to be is really the only way to live. That ignoring the voices--even the mean ones inside your own head--and trusting in the Lord is the only way to make choices. That we have freedom in Christ (even a command) to be different. And the cure for aching is in the workload and rest of Jesus, because His burden is light. 

If you need me, I'll be making fresh memories with the kids where I'm less stressed out and more likely to be having tea parties and teddy bear picnics. And more than likely, The Greatest Showman will be playing in the background because we give the little one what she wants. 

Fantastic Light

I sorta have a love affair with light. It's been a lifelong thing. Perhaps it started because I was afraid of the dark and nightlights were such faithful little electric companions. Maybe it's because I went to the planetarium once as a kid and fell in love with starlight. Or it might be because I know what it is to stumble about in proverbial darkness and need a great light to give warmth, direction, and well, light. 

In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
-- John 1:4‭-‬5 ESV

In the summer of 2016 I was struggling with post-partum depression, grieving the passing of my beloved grandmother (I lost 3 grandparents in 7 months time), trying to put down roots in a still new area, and working through long days and longer nights as a worn out mother of two. It was a dark time. I won't lie about that and I'll try to not exaggerate. A friend who met with me each week for bible study and encouragement described me as "clawing for the light." It was a very apt description. I knew I desperately needed the Light. I asked God to show me the light.

That summer there were hundreds and hundreds, maybe a thousand, fireflies who came out to dance in our yard each night. I'd never seen so many in my life. I couldn't walk without bumping into them. And oh, the hours I spent that summer walking in our yard. It was a large grassy yard with several tall, tall trees for shade. My husband would take our 4 year old son out to the family farm to pal around as he worked, and I would carry our six month old baby girl in my arms as I walked around the yard. I sang hymns and praise songs and trendy Christian tunes from the radio, whatever stirred in my heart and fell out of my mouth. And I prayed. And cried. Not always sad tears. Just sometimes because of exhaustion and hard mental-emotional-spiritual work often warrants crying. God led me through deep trust issues, with Him and humanity. He led me closer to His own heart. 

And every night the fireflies flickered in the trees and the grass and the fields all around. Lights blinking one to another. I'm here. I'm here. You're not alone. See my light? 

"You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden.  Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house.  In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.
--Matthew 5:14‭-‬16 ESV

One night it hit me. The Kindom of Heaven is like fireflies in a dark world. I light up so you can know you're not alone. You light up so I can know I'm not alone. We communicate in the light. We live and move and have our being in the Light. 

How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 
--William Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice

It's now January of 2019, almost three years later. I haven't seen a firefly in months. But the Light keeps coming to me. I just have to look. It's been a weird, warm, gray, dreary winter in Ohio (and elsewhere). Much too bleak, not enough sun. On Christmas there was sunshine. On my daughter's birthday just two weeks and two days later there was sunshine. Today it was warm and sunny and we had a trip to the park. My son, now six, picked me a sunny yellow dandelion. In January. 

I saw Mary Poppins Returns again tonight. I get a little bingey with beautiful things. I always have. It's an affliction but one I don't mind. And I've concluded that my favorite part is when Jack and the Lamplighters teach the new generation of Banks children to "trip a little light fantastic."

'Trip a Little Light Fantastic' is the big show-stopping number, similar to 'Chim-Chim-Cheree' in the original movie. Again, trying to avoid spoilers, I will reveal this much (since I think it's revealed in the trailers and elsewhere) Lin-Manuel Miranda leads the London Lamplighters in an exuberant song and dance about turning on the light. It's fun, it's toe-tapping, it's got a great dance break, and it's a catchy tune. 

And it's about light. It exhorts us to not give up when we're in a fog of confusion, when we're weary inside and out, when we just want to hide or lay down and be done. Don't quit. Look for the light. Shine for others to see.  

It's everything I've come to hold dear as God has been teaching me about light my entire life. From nightlights to starlight to fireflies to lamplight....He's used it all to point to Himself. The Light of the World. 

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shone. -- Isaiah 9:2 ESV

I've found that if I just pay attention I can find God in the most unlikely places. He seems to favor that trick. After all, we've just celebrated the time He turned up in a manger as a newborn. And wherever I find Him, there's the light. Fantastic light. 

2019: Nowhere To Go But Up

"Life's a balloon that tumbles or rises depending on what is inside. Fill it with hope and playful surprises, and oh, deary ducks, then you're in for a ride..." 
--'Nowhere To Go But Up'. Music and Lyrics by Scott Wittman and Marc Shaiman

For the last three years Hollywood has gifted me beautiful movies that fill me up with inspiration, beauty, and wonder. First, there was the re-imagined Beauty and the Beast, and although I've now seen it five or six times, I still get teary-eyed at the ending. (I've become one of those grown-ups.) Next came, The Greatest Showman which took many of us by storm and filled us up with glitter and dreams and music. Now this year, a kindred friend from childhood has come back--I feel almost like Jane Banks myself when she blurts out: "I thought we'd never see you again!". Yes, of course, I'm speaking of Mary Poppins Returns.

In full disclosure, I was against this film when I first heard of it. There were a lot of grumbles and bah humbugs all the way until Thanksgiving this year. We stumbled upon an ABC special about Mary Poppins Returns and when I heard Dick Van Dyke's ringing endorsement (and learned of his amazing cameo) I finally decided to open my heart up to another installment of Mary Poppins. I'm so glad I did.

(I feel that this is a good spot to warn you that there will most surely be several posts over the next couple of weeks inspired by this movie, and probably the original, and then we'll go tripping and traipsing all over the stories and songs that have taught me the way to see beauty and wonder in a world often too busy, too cold, and too dark to notice. That was actually the vision I'd been dreaming up for this blog anyway. A cozy house blend of inspiration, insight, and imagination all fueled by stories. I've always been a sucker for a good story.)

I promise, no spoilers....although, I should hope that you'd trust Mary Poppins to deliver the Banks family a happy ending. After all, she is Mary Poppins and practically perfect in every way. Spit spot and all that. But I wanted to share some thoughts I had after soaking in the last song in the film.

"The past is the past. It lives on as history and that's an important thing. The future comes fast. Each second a mystery. For nobody knows what tomorrow may bring."

I think most of us would agree that 2018 was a hard year. Many of my friends are walking steep paths marked with loss, grief, and uncertainty. I myself felt heavy pressure and stress in the various roles I play in life--wife, mother, friend, homeschooler, church volunteer, and of course, writer. Rarely it seemed to me that I was measuring up to those mystical standards I felt both externally and internally. With feelings of failure, doubt, and frustration I almost crawled to the finish-line of the holiday season. But in that bleak mid-winter, I started to read books again and listen to podcasts about beauty and hope. As my brain started to drink up this goodness, I could feel the bud of hope peeking up from the soil in my heart. I started to remember what it was like to believe in my dreams, and not just drag them along in a heavy sack. I started to really look forward to the new year. It felt like the turning of a page was coming; that I could mark an end to some of the hardships of 2018, and pick up fresh ink to write on the pages of 2019 with renewed energy. 

It's a matter of coincidence that I saw Mary Poppins Returns on January 1, 2019. Although, maybe, since I do whole-heartedly and stubbornly believe that God is a man of details, perhaps it was providence. Isn't it rather perfect to begin a new year with a good strong dose of imagination and adventure? Isn't it grand to be drawn into a world of possibility and reminded what childlike eyes can see? And, isn't it wonderful to be assured that when life has been grinding and our loads have gotten so heavy we can hardly think straight or see the path ahead of us that there's "nowhere to go but up"? 

Each day is new. When the sun rises, even on the gray dreary days we've been plagued with here in Ohio, it shines on untouched hours. Busyness and commitments do limit some of the possibilities in each day, but there are so many moments unaccounted for in which we can breathe in deep and notice the world around us. There are opportunities to love hard and live well. There's time to play and create. There's room for silliness and laughter. There's space for faith and hope. There's nowhere to go but up. 

Lest you think I've gone completely mad with optimism, I'm sure 2019 will have its ugly bits I'd rather not have to sort out. I've been on this planet long enough now to know that all my lists and resolutions don't really stop the tide of life from crashing hard sometimes. But here I am on the shores of a new year and I'm inviting you to join me. Let's journey together pointing out beauty as we go, searching high and low for magical things, and celebrating the wonder in ordinary days. And in jealousy guarding our faith and hope and discoveries, we may just keep the dark from inching out our joy in another year. Here's to a new year! May we go nowhere but up carried high by hope on steady strings of faith. 

"Let the past take a bow, the forever is now. And there's nowhere to go but up, up!"