Holding Space

 I don't have to tell you that this has been a hard year. It's a collective experience. A brotherhood worldwide. All of us on planet earth have felt the frustration and sorrow of humanity, seen or experienced the groaning of nature. I've seen photos of tornadoes in hurricanes and tornadoes in wildfires. I read about a hurricane in Iowa. Iowa. If that doesn't tell you that this has been one doozy of a year nothing will. Except, of course, police brutality and the riots. The loss of life, good grief, the loss of life. From covid, from violence, from cancer, from old age, from accidents, from suicide. So. Much. Loss. 

I don't have to tell you, but I did anyway. We have to remind ourselves, even as we live it. We're so used to abolishing hard things until a more convenient time. We politely ignore suffering, we stubbornly refuse to admit we're struggling. And we can't figure out why we're so tired all the time, and can't sleep at night, and are also eating all our feelings dipped in salt and chocolate. 

You see, I think we don't give ourselves space to feel hard things. It's uncomfortable so it's better to just book ourselves solid, or distract somehow. It's hard to reconcile suffering and our misshapen ideas of a good God. So we don't. We hold onto our lumpy view of God and pretend we aren't suffering so we don't let him down or drop in status with him. 

Let me try to explain. I've come to realize that the prosperity gospel is much more rampant in american, perhaps most western, christianity than I previously would've admitted. It's really easy to point to the televangelists with really shiny teeth and glossy hair who are promising you "health, wealth, and happiness". Any dodo could hit that target. Although, I guess actually a lot of people don't....Anyway, there's a more deeply embedded strain of this prosperity gospel that's been running unchecked for a long, long time. 

It's in the idea that "I go to church, I'm a good person, so why isn't God giving me what I want?" It's in the notion that if you trust God and call on Jesus and claim his promises then you get to bypass hardship and go straight to joy. It's the concept that if you just have enough faith--not fear--then God will protect you. Or heal you. Or whatever. 

But when we examine these ideas against the scriptures, it takes about two seconds to realize it doesn't hold water. Joseph (of the amazing technicolor coat), David, Moses, Abraham, Jacob, Esther, Ruth, Jeremiah, Isaiah, Elijah, Eli, Job, Daniel....should I go on? They all experienced incredible hardship, loss, suffering, grief, and trials. That's just the Old Testament. You can't read the New Testament without getting smacked with the reality that Jesus himself suffered. He also told us we would have "trials of many kind". And then the book of Acts goes on to detail some horrible struggles the early church endured. Any history book on ancient Rome can fill in the rest. 

Soooo, there went the prosperity gospel right out the window leaving a gaping hole in our theology. Without a leg to stand on, we collapse unable to deal with our hardships. We don't know how to mourn with those who mourn because we believe we shouldn't have to mourn if we just trust God enough so he never has to "get our attention". As if those who are mourning are inferior christians. 

Except. Here we go again, Joseph mourned. He wailed so loudly everyone in the Egyptian palace heard him. And no one was even dead. But he was mourning all that had happened to him, all the pain he suffered because of his brothers, the years of relationship he could've had with them, and with his father. He was mourning deep, deep loss before he approached his brothers for reconciliation. 

Jesus wept. And before he did, Mary and Martha mourned. For three days they mourned. They buried lazarus. They had to figure out a plan for their future. Like Anna in Frozen 2, these sisters were mourning and figuring out the next right thing. And then Jesus arrived. And they carried their grief to him. Why didn't you come? Mary wanted to know. She needed to know. She was brokenhearted and doubt crept in where before only wonder and worship existed. 

Let me tell you, in 2020, I feel like Mary. For personal reasons and private hardships, I've been knocked over and winded with grief. Disappointment. Frustration. Even fear. Not covid fear, at least not entirely. But fear of what else is around the bend? Just how many shoes are going to drop this year? Are any of the lights in the tunnel not going to be trains to bowl us over again? That kind of fear. The fear that wants to suck your hope dry through a swirly straw. 

But I don't want this. I want to be strong, super christian who feels no fear and is able to leap pandemics in a single bound! Right? Isn't that what we're supposed to be? Who has time to mourn when there's so much to do? Just forge ahead, woman, don't stop to grieve. Don't linger with Jesus to ask him any questions. Stuff your feelings in a fanny pack and get going. 

Is that what happened in that story? Did Jesus turn to his brokenhearted friend and immediately give her the great commission? Did he repeat the Sermon on the Mount like maybe she just forgot about being salt and light? Did he pat her on the shoulder and mumble something about letting him know if she needs anything? 

Nope. He stepped into grief with her. He wept. And although the flannel graphs in my childhood never really depicted it this way, I feel pretty certain that Mary wept too. And Martha didn't hold her tears back before the Lord. There was space to mourn. There was time. The women had already been mourning for three days. And that was allowed. It was appropriate. All their sorrow, sadness, fear, and yes, even their doubt. There was space for it. Jesus didn't admonish them. He wept with them. 

And then, he restored what was lost. He brought their brother back to life. 

I started reading a book by john Eldredge called "All Things New" which thoroughly explores the promise of God's restoration. In truth, I ordered it from the library only because my word for this year was supposed to be "new". And lately it's been feeling like my word is "butt kick" so when I saw that John Eldredge had a book with the word "new" in the title, I snagged it. Well, I requested it from the library, waited for it to arrive, and let it sit for two weeks before cracking it open. 

I'm not sure I really wanted to be comforted. I wanted to stay angry with God for not giving me what I wanted. I wanted to sit in my sneaky prosperity theology because it's basically everywhere and it's easy. But then I went to counseling and my counselor said some things and so I opened up the book, just in case there was a word in there for me. 

And I wept. And then I read some more the next night and I wept again. 

And in my weeping, Jesus entered in. He's not withholding goodness like the bees that chase the hummingbirds away from the feeder outside our kitchen window. Those bees don't let the hummingbirds get that which was set out for them, to sustain them for their journey. No, Jesus is angry with those who do the withholding. He's angry, like we are, that the world is broken and people are mean. He weeps with me. I don't have to hide my tears from him. 

Why doesn't God just do x, y, or z and make the world a better place? For that, I defer to the world of Narnia and assume that there is deep magic, written before the dawn of time, that I do not understand but that cannot be violated even by God himself without catastrophic consequences. It's not that God is helpless; it's that there are boundaries he must keep and that costs him a great deal of pain. It cost him his own son after all. But there's a plan and it's a good one and we're worth it all to him. And in that, hope begins to glimmer. 

The hope we have transcends experience. Our experiences will hurt. And we will have doubts sometimes. We will grieve, and weep, and question, and rage at the universe. We live in a broken world with broken people making choices with broken hearts. Our hope must be bigger than now and here. It must be rooted in eternity and established in Christ himself. And then, we find the small hopes to light the road. The beauty of fantastic sunsets, the rich flavors of a perfectly brewed cup of tea, the aroma of chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven, or pine trees baking in glorious sunlight. The way we feel completely full inside when children are belly laughing over basically nothing, just because joy is accessible to the young at heart. The way we feel safe in a hug from a kindred spirit, a soul friend. 

Here's what I know right now in September of 2020, the God forsaken year. 

God has not forsaken us, and we're not failures of the faith for feeling hard things. In fact, we must hold space for suffering and mourning. Every hero of the faith in Hebrews 11 sure did. Mary and martha did. Jesus did. And we must cling to hope, even if it's only by our tiniest fingernail. And even if that hope manifests in the smallest of joys--a favorite song, a favorite wooded path, a favorite friend. Hope and grief aren't opposites; they're companions. Joseph wailed, remember? Even as his brothers and the hope of restoration waited in the next room. 

We have space to grieve and it makes space for hope. Denying ourselves the reality of suffering means we cut ourselves off from experiencing a deeper hope in Christ. In our suffering, we're more like Jesus, not less. And there's hope to be found there when we're ready. 

Personally, I'm still grieving but now it's with the awareness that Jesus can be in that space with me. I don't have to shove him out. And that has allowed the light back in. I'm still wondering what's around the bend, but holding space for some good. Surely, there will be good things. It's isn't all loss. 

In 2020, I've been disappointed quite a bit. But I've also watched my children grow. We've made memories and embraced simple pleasures. I've discovered new hobbies like sketching and watercolors. I've read some beautiful, hopeful books. I've listened to hours and hours and hours of music. I've been part of online communities that formed over books and banjos and cups of tea, but go on to bolster and encourage each other. I've learned how to sustain relationships in new ways, and how beautiful it is to feel valued and sustained by those relationships. I've wept with joy and love and gladness as well as grief. I've done hard things and walked hard roads but have kept my face toward the light. Maybe when I look back I'll be able to remember 2020 as the year when I learned how to hold space for grief and hope at the same time, and how to hold it all up the light to see how even the hard can sparkle. 

Life Lessons: Homeschool Edition

Since there's a huge influx of new homeschoolers in the world, I thought I'd share a little bit of my own homeschool journey to encourage you as you begin yours. I have needed boat loads of encouragement and now I get to pass it on. Before we begin, let me be clear that I'm talking about legal homeschooling. The type of homeschool where you send in a Notice of Intent and receive a letter excusing your children from compulsory attendance for the academic year. I'm not talking about distance learning, hybrid, or online school. I have exactly zero experience with those forms of education, so please, don't think I'm trying to speak to that. 

Now, as most of you know, I homeschool my two kids. I have an eight year old son and a four year old daughter. This year is the first year I'm really schooling my daughter. She's just been an add-on accessory the past couple years, mostly just enjoying art projects and scribbling in her own workbooks from the Dollar Tree. 

But I never thought I would be a homeschooler. If you had asked me at any point prior to 2015 for my thoughts on homeschooling, they would've been riddled with stereotypes and prejudice. Let's just cut to the chase: most people's opinions on homeschooling are riddled with stereotypes and prejudice. We all knew that one weird family that homeschooled, that one awkward kid who never figure out socialization, and that one time that one homeschooling mom said something so unscientific that clearly the entire community is off its collective rocker. Or even worse--when a news story breaks about an abusive family that hid beneath the guise of home education. It's really easy to make snap judgements about any group of people. A few months ago I pointed out to someone ranting about homeschoolers that to lump us all together as abusive nutjobs (as she was), is like saying everyone who rides a motorcylce is a violent gangmember. Obviously, that's not the case. 

Newsflash: there are weird families, awkward kids, and wacky educators in brick and mortar schools, too. And abusive home lives are not exclusive to the homeschool community. Ask any public school teacher if they've had to make a phone call to children's services. 

So, now that we can set aside those stereotypes and prejudices, let's talk about real homeschooling. I had a huge learning curve over two or three years. I really never thought I would homeschool, but when we couldn't afford preschool for our son, I started to investigate. What I discovered is that the homeschool world is more varied, more complex, more rich, more dynamic, and more successful than I ever knew. The options are literally endless. And I learned some things about public education that unsettled me. Let me be clear: not with teachers! Most teachers are heroes who deserve their own holiday. But public education is a government endeavor and I'm not comfortable with some of the things I learned in my research. I researched a lot before deciding to homeschool. Looking back, I was probably just trying to justify the call I had on my heart to home educate. Still, my research really helped me know my reasons why I wanted to take on this big adventure (and burden) of homeschooling. It really helps to know you're "why". It gets you through the rough patches. And there are rough patches. 

Let me share with you a few things I've learned the hard way in my homeschool journey, so hopefully some of your rough patches won't be as painful as mine. 

The first thing I had to learn that homeschooling is not school at home. I wish I had record of my "homeschool style" quiz results over the last four years. I've radically changed from "school at home" to basically "unschooling". Those are totally opposite ends of the spectrum, if you're wondering. Like, 180* difference. Most of us spend thirteen years in the school system and then another four at college. Learning is very structured, regulated, and categorized. Progress is easily measured by grades and tests. Yes, there are those fun teachers that make school amazing--I was blessed with many of those. And there are electives that make education richer and more interesting. But, seriously, when you boil it down it's pretty regimented and ordered. But homeschooling isn't. There aren't class periods, no bells, no timed lunches or recesses, no hall monitors or bathroom passes. Some people have dedicated class space (we did for a little while but rarely used it), but more often than not there aren't lines of desks all pointing towards a smartboard. It's all very....free form. And that can feel unwieldy and scary! Most newbies (ahem, me) grasp for state standards and Common Core aligned curriculum and other things that make us feel a little safer. We're grasping for the sides of the box we've been in all our lives.....but the box just tipped over. Guys....you don't have to be in the box anymore. Step outside. There's fresh air out here. 

The next thing I learned was that comparison is toxic. I mean, like combining ammonia and bleach toxic. I was always comparing my son to his peers. Always. Obsessively. And he wasn't necessarily measuring up. And there's all these amazing studies that show how homeschoolers can be so advanced. Which is true and that's great. But my kid wasn't off the charts on reading or math. Still isn't. When he couldn't read and his peers at church all could, I panicked. Big time. Major panic. Five alarm panic. And I pushed him hard. I shamed him. I hate admitting this to anyone, but it's important to get it out there. Because you know what happened? He started to hate everything. He hated even me reading to him, something we have always loved and shared. He hated doing school at all. The worst thing I ever did was comparing him to others and trying to shove him into someone else's box.

The third thing is related to the comparison trap.....there's no such thing as behind in homeschool. This is something homeschoolers tell each other all the time so it gets to be a cliche, but it's seriously true. I didn't believe them at first. I was panicking and comparing! But when I finally cut that out, and backed way, way, way off....I could see how my son was, in fact, learning. He was just learning on his schedule. When you plant flower seeds, they don't all sprout at the same time, let alone blossom. You can't even pop a bag of popcorn and have the kernels pop in a uniformed way. Why on earth do we expect kids to be so uniform?? So, when I stopped comparing and started recognizing our own progress, was I able to lean into his strengths and interests, and my interests too. I dialed my expectations way down and stopped thinking I had to prove anything to anyone. 

Ah, yes. There it is. Another important lesson---you don't have to prove anything to anyone. Remember those stereotypes and prejudices from before? They're everywhere. You will literally run into opinions everywhere you go--the grocery store, church, family reunions, wherever. To be fair, I've been blessed with an inordinate amount of praise for homeschooling. Best compliment ever was a 90 year old store owner asking if my son was homeschooled because he was so well-behaved and polite in her shop. We both walked out ten feet tall. But most homeschoolers I know, and me as well, have run into the side-eyes and the socialization question. Relax, guys, it's homeschooling, not "under a rock schooling" and we do see people and socialize. Not so much now in the middle of a pandemic, but you get what I'm saying. Anyway, those prejudices? It made me feel like I had to prove myself to anyone with an opinion. I had to be the best homeschooler to ever school. And too bad if my kid was getting steamrolled by my insecurities. Yikes, right? But a lot of us fall into that trap. Social media makes it so much worse. I ghosted most of the homeschool groups I was in for a while a couple years ago because I couldn't handle hearing about everyone's amazing plans and big wins. We were drowning! But I was both the storm and the anchor weighing us down. Letting go of that desire to prove myself was maybe the biggest game-changer of them all. 

Our homeschool doesn't look like anyone else I know. We're not exactly child-led, although I try to be interest-led. I'm not opposed to box curriculum, but I can't afford it. I have curriculum--homeschool textbooks really--but we don't use them the way they were designed to be used. We're heavy on the arts and crafts and science experiments and projects. We do a "poetry teatime" (if you hang out in homeschool world at all, you'll find out that's a big thing) but we don't actually read poetry--we read fairytales and I add in art projects and geography. We use a lot of PBS kids and YouTube. And library books? A couple weeks ago I sat down to request a few books, and the next day realized I had requested over seventy books. We have three library cards at one library! We don't belong to a co-op, although we have been part of a class at the library that we loved. 

And we aren't like anyone else I know! In the last year my son and I both have been diagnosed with ADHD. He learns differently than a neurotypical child and I'm realizing, I did too. We dance to the beat of a different drum. We're high strung, imaginative, creative, dramatic, emotional people. And we're not very organized. Imagine the shrug emoji right here. There are lots of people who have made passive aggressive, or maybe "micro-aggressive" comments about homeschooling over the years---like we'd all be more normal if I sent my kids to school. Allow me to remind you again that there are weirdos everywhere. And let me make this clear: we're not very interested in normal. We are uniquely made in the image of God himself. My counselor reminded me just the other day that God created me with the exact characteristics and traits he wanted me to have. The very things I often wish away, might be the things that God gifted me with to do great work for him. Or the things that draw me closest to him as I learn to manage traits that are difficult. Same thing goes for my kids. 

Here's a final life lesson homeschool edition: I will still get insecure sometimes. I will still worry that it's not enough and my kids will be blockheads and it will be all my fault. Most homeschoolers I know hit that wall at least once in every school year. The more seasoned ones get over it faster. I'm still pretty new at this so I tend to wallow. I'm also an enneagram four so wallowing is just something I do, but we call it melancholy so it sounds better. But I'm learning. And so are my kids! My kids are learning academics, but they're also learning that it's okay to be different. That we all mess up sometimes and need to course correct. That some days are just hard and you get through it. 

If you find yourself homeschooling and you never ever thought you would, welcome to the club! There are gobs of us here. Lay down your preconceived notions and start to imagine the possibilities. Get to know your kids in new ways. Get to know yourself in a new way. Explore interests. Adventure together--in parks and roadtrips, and in books! Oh, so many books. Don't get caught in the quagmire of comparison or the quicksand of proving yourself. Let social media inspire you, but not shame you. And most of all, enjoy the freedom of being uniquely you! You've got this. 

Gather the Good

Podcasts (and books): Read Aloud Revival, Wild + Free, The Brave Learner, and Sally Clarkson. 

Favorite school activities: The Narnia unit studies, Bear School, Creature School, Fairytale Tea, Preschooling through Books. 

Those Who Dreamed

I've been reading backwards through the Psalms lately. I started at the end because I usually start at the beginning, but don't usually finish before I've run off elsewhere in the scriptures. It's been a very soothing practice. There's honesty in them--frustration, doubt, fear, loneliness, sadness, confusion--but also the habit of praise. And today, I read Psalm 126 and the very first verse spoke something to my soul that felt just like fresh air and sunshine.

When the LORD restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dreamed.

Now, maybe it's because I've been a self-professed dreamer since I was just a kid, but that line woke me up. The kind of awakening that comes when you first breathe in salty sea air, or when you sink your feet into cool water, or when you can open windows for fresh cool air after a winter of being closed in. 

I looked up the line in a couple other translations to get a better idea of what the psalmist was going for. Other translations says that returning to Jerusalem felt like a dream. It was such a profound moment of joy and rapture that it was hard to believe it was real. And I certainly can appreciate that. But, I've always been one to march to the beat of my own interpretation with poetry....which led to a few grades on papers that to this day I contest. So for me, to be as "those who dreamed" means something else. Those who dream have hope. Those who dream have vision and imagination. Those who dream may shelter in place, but their hearts are still free to wander fearlessly. 

I want to always be someone who dreams. Although it's hard when it feels like life is bearing down. On those days in those seasons, it seems there's no room for dreaming. It's just one foot in front of the other, head down, toil, sleep, repeat. Like Jean Valjean on the chain gang, or Frodo on a ridiculously long journey to Mordor. Oh, sure, my life isn't that grim, oppressed, or perilous. But when the dreams get snuffed out, I feel the parched struggle to just endure.

Dreaming is an integral part of hope. And we need hope to survive. I hear it all the time in the words we speak to each other right now. My own son reminds us frequently, "this won't last forever". It's a one-liner of hope. And he has a pocketful of dreams of things he can do, people he can see, new experiences to have. His hope allows him room to dream.

If you had asked me a couple years ago about my dreams, they were larger than life. Part of me, somewhere deep down, still harbors a bit of those dreams. But my dreams have steadily shrunken. And now, in the midst of pandemic, my dreams seem small enough to fit inside a thimble. I dream of visiting family, of hugging my friends, of going to concerts and baseball games, of dates in busy restaurants and packed movie theaters. The ordinary has become a dream.

Aside from the Psalms, I've been reading The Lord of the Ring for the first time. I've noticed several things. One, Tolkien had an insanely overactive imagination and I'm kinda jealous. Two, he really liked the words "thither" and "ere". Three, hope is an essential for all on the journey and in the struggle against darkness. Four, the memory of ordinary life, or of glory days steeped in legend are essential in sustaining that hope.

When I read Psalm 126:1 the first time, the translation in my Bible said, like men who dreamed. And you know who came to mind? Aragorn. Weary, rough, and wise...he seems to me as one who dreamed. And he's the one I first noticed banging a steady drum of hope in the pages of their journey.

Someday, when the Lord restores our fortunes...when life has returned to at least some semblance of normal if it cannot go back to the way it was.....and I really hope it can....but someday there will be normal again. This sustained time of strain, collective trauma, and sheltering in place will have passed. And we will be like those who dream. It will feel surreal, just as this feels surreal. To do what used to be normal and ordinary will feel like a dream.

But until then, let us still find ways to be those who dream. You must leave room for hope. Make space for dreams, even tiny ones that fit into thimbles. Those little thimble dreams will sustain you until it's time for a new dream.

Which....reminds me of Tangled. But that's an episode for another day. Have you ever noticed how many fairy tale characters are actually on lockdown? I hope to dig into that in the next episode. In the meantime, keep dreaming.

Gather the Good
Books with characters who dream and/or endure isolation of some kind.

Anne of Green Gables
Rilla of Ingleside
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society
The Secret Garden

Also check out The East Pointers on Facebook as they read through the Anne books! 

Episode 19: Show Yourself, Know Yourself; or what I learned from Elsa

Note: I first wrote this post on March 17, so it's been nearly a month. It got put on the shelf for a variety of reasons, but mostly because covid-19 took over my entire podcast life. I wrote and recorded a couple episodes on here, and I launched a podcast for the children's ministry at my church. This meant that Elsa had to wait a little while. I thought about editing it with some fresh insights, but after re-reading, it turns out I'm pretty good with this. In fact, I needed to re-read it. I'd already forgotten in all the stress and strangeness of a pandemic what I had learned from everyone's favorite ice princess. So. Here's my take on Frozen 2. 

I'm one of those types who finds deep meaning in basically everything. I always have been. Throw a book, song, or movie at me and there's a real good chance I'll walk away with some meaningful message or inspiration. Usually both. I've come away from Marvel movies with insights about God and Christianity. I wrote several blog posts high on Mary Poppins Returns. And if you click on the "banjo" tag on my blog, you'll quickly see how much I've taken from my favorite songs.

So hopefully you won't think I'm a loon when I tell you that Frozen 2 spoke to me in very profound ways. Or, maybe you still think I'm nutsy cuckoo but at least you know it's totally keeping in character for me.

I saw it for the first time on Sunday night of this here wonderful social distancing time we're having. My kids and I have watched it two more times since and we started streaming the soundtrack. My 4yo daughter is deep in her Elsa feels. And now I have joined her. Give me some glittery blue heels and a snowflake cape. I want in.

There are a lot of great little moments and lines in Frozen 2. And Elsa and Anna are definitely the strongest Disney princesses I have ever seen. Their grit and strength are incredible, and I absolutely am here for it. Especially since Kristoff is still strong, needed, and heroic in his own right. I really value that they didn't disenfranchise men while empowering women (I'm looking at you Maleficent. Gah, that movie really got on my nerves). Excellent work with the Frozen squad, folks at Disney.

But the moment I signed up for Team Elsa is what I really want to talk about. There's really no way around spoilers here so if you haven't seen it and you care about that kind of thing...STOP READING...go Disney+ yourself or Redbox or whatever you need to do and go watch this movie. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll want a reindeer for a best friend. It's great.

Okay, ready now? Let's dig in.

Watching Elsa relentlessly cross the Dark Sea was the moment my husband and I looked at each other totally straight up impressed with a Disney princess. This sea is wicked. Her parents drowned it, a truth she has only just learned. And there is a water spirit in the form of a horse literally trying to drown her. But she does not give up. She gets clever. When her sheer power doesn't work as it did with the fire and wind spirits, she uses her brains and harnesses the horse with an ice bit and bridle. The horse recognizes her as an equal then and, like me, joins Team Elsa. She rides the water horse towards a huge glacier or iceberg which she realizes is Ahtohallan--the river which holds secrets of the past. It's frozen. The place where her parents believed they would find out why their daughter had magic, the place which holds all the truth about the past and who and why Elsa is....is frozen. And the meaning isn't lost on her.

She begins to weep. She knows she's about to find out something deep and powerful and true about herself in this place. She senses the voice that has been calling to her. Her emotions are overwhelming but she does not stop. She embraces everything Ahtohallan has to reveal.

And, since this is Disney and they don't waste Idina Menzel's remarkable talent, she also begins to sing.

This song. This. This is actually the moment that gave me chills. Beforehand I was impressed with her. I'm cheering for her. Maybe even fangirling like my preschooler. Yet in this song, "Show Yourself" I became her.

No. I'm not an ice princess and I don't have magic. Unfortunately. I'm probably more like Anna in the long and short of it--kinda clumsy and impulsive and fiercely loving. But I do know how it feels to not understand yourself. I know what it means to be different.

"I've never felt so certain

All my life I've been torn

But I'm here for a reason

Could it be the reason I was born?

I have always been so different

Normal rules did not apply

Is this the day?

Are you the way

I finally find out why?"

Maybe we all feel this way. I think we probably do. I've felt very aware of my own abnormalities lately. I'm 35 years old and have just recently learned that I'm ADHD. I'm the inattentive type, meaning I'm not necessarily hyper but I'm unfocused. Daydreamy. Disorganized. Scattered. Struggle with routine and consistency. Can't follow through. Loses things. Prone to irrational frustration and rage.

Yep. That's me. And that's hard to look at sometimes. Like Elsa, sometimes all I can see is the destruction of my differences. Have you ever noticed the guilt Elsa walks around with?? It's particularly noticeable in the two Frozen shorts that Disney created between the films. Elsa blames herself for so much. I get that on my hard days. Sometimes it's tempting to look around and see only mayhem, hang your head in shame, and blame yourself.

But, like my girl Elsa, I'm wired differently. We just never ever knew it. I was good at school. A fantastic student, in fact. And I held down jobs okay and maintain personal relationships pretty well. I'm empathetic and invested. I'm really creative and imaginative. I think I can also be witty, clever, and innovative from time to time. And when I'm focused on something, I'm like a dog with a bone. I don't stop until it's done.

Some of this is, in fact, symptoms of ADHD! It isn't all bad! The flip side of so many of the negatives are some really vibrant positives. Research shows a lot of girls are just like me, and aren't diagnosed until they're grown women. We adapt to the negatives until something like motherhood comes along. That's like Anna tearing the gloves off...chaos ensues. And everything you thought you could control, is now out of control.

So maybe I really am more like Elsa after all. And her song of self-discovery is really self-acceptance. And I am here.for.it.

"You are the one you've been waiting for... all of my life."

Can I take a moment here to say that I really love that the animators let both Elsa and Anna ugly cry in this movie?? Later on, there's this moment where Anna is crying and wiping her snot with her hands and it's just so real. I love it. And in this song "Show Yourself" Elsa sees her mother and all her memories and she's so overcome. She's got tears just streaming down her face even as she belts out her song. It's a beautiful thing when all the pieces and parts of the past, when all the bits and pieces of yourself finally make sense to you. It can be hard. And the journey there definitely is, as it was for Elsa harnessing the horse. But it is absolutely worth it to get to a place where you know who you are and you love yourself.

As is always the case with Elsa, a big ballad with self-actualization means a costume change. This time girlfriend gets a glittering white ensemble and loses the braid. She looks so free and so utterly herself.

The story doesn't end there. Her journey to Altohallan was not only for herself but to find out why the spirits left and Arendelle is in danger. To pursue the truth, she must go deeper and put herself in grave danger. She does, knowing that it must be done and also trusting that her sister will find a way to make things right.  

Sometimes when we dig deep into the past, it's painful. The trauma we unearth, the secrets we uncover, it can be damaging. But it's impossible to fully discover who you are and who you were meant to be without dealing with the hard stuff. And just as Elsa does it for herself and Arendelle, we do it for ourselves and our people. I didn't start counseling until I became concerned that my issues would become my children's issues. That's some real talk right there. It hasn't been easy, but it's been worth it and will continue to be. I mean, it sure would be great if we could all just sing a great song, get a fantastic makeover, and have our hair blown out to be all okay inside and out. It just doesn't work that way. I'm really glad it wasn't that simple for Elsa either. Her journey was for her and her people, and she needed her people to survive it. 

Let me break this down those of us who are not Disney princesses with ice power and water horses. Guys, healing takes community. And maybe that's actually the very best thing about the Frozen franchise is that it's a community. They're a makeshift family with two sisters, an orphan mountain man with a reindeer for a best friend, and a magical talking snowman. Yes, Anna and Kristoff are in love, but the whole story is really about all of them finding and needing each other. You take away one of them, and the group is missing something essential. Even Sven the Reindeer--and my goodness, I absolutely love Sven in this one. We all need community to thrive. We cannot do life alone. And we certainly cannot face trauma and the past alone. Even moreso, we cannot embrace all that we're meant to be alone. We weren't created for alone! 

I would not have the courage to go to counseling, to explore possible diagnoses, to talk out in the big wide open about hard things without my community. I have amazing family who love me and always have just as I am. I have friends who let me fangirl about banjo boys and cry about my shortcomings. I have friends who are now family, who embrace all that I am and say that it's valuable. And I have a relationship with my Creator where I can tell Him I think He really messed up assigning me my life, and He spends the day showing me how nothing is really messed up at all. It's loud. It's messy. But it's also vibrant, dynamic, and full of love. 

It can be hard to find your tribe.  But it is absolutely worth the risk and the work to find your people. (That's a major lesson in the first Frozen. Give a listen to the song "Fixer Upper" and take notes.) Lean in. Ask questions. Invite people over (after covid-19 becomes a memory, of course). Do for others and let them do for you. And when you're facing something really hard, or when you're working really hard on your emotional-mental health, don't try to do it alone. Talk about it with someone. Share the struggles and let them help you how they can. And get to know Jesus. Maybe you never have for yourself. I'm not here to tell you that trusting Jesus makes your life magical and easy, but I can assure you, you're never alone. 

Okay, so I think that's all I got on that. Below is the music video for "Show Yourself". You're quarantined with nothing to do, take four and a half minutes to watch this. And be inspired. It's okay to be different. Be who you are. And embrace your tribe. 

Show Notes: Reflections of the Resurrection: Thursday & Friday, Peter (Day 5&6)

Scripture Readings

John 1:29-42—John the Baptist testifies about Jesus
Matthew 4:18-22—Fishers of Men
Mark 8:31-33—Jesus rebukes Peter
Mark 14:27-31—Denial Predicted
John 18:1-14—Jesus arrested
Luke 22:54-62—Peter Denies Jesus*
Luke 23:26-49—Crucifixion & Death of Jesus
Luke 24:1-12—The empty tomb
John 21—By the Sea*

To purchase your own copy of Reflections of the Resurrection: 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07PYZMVFS/ref=cm_sw_r_apa_i_0NCJEbRF31X2G

Show Notes: Reflections of the Resurrection: Wednesday, Thomas (Day 4)

Scripture Readings

Matthew 17:1-20—The Transfiguration & healing of possessed boy
Matthew 27:32—56—The Crucifixion & Death of Jesus
John 20:19-29—Jesus and Thomas*
Matthew 14:22-33—Walking on Water
Matthew 15:29-49—Feeding of 4,000

To purchase your own copy of Reflections of the Resurrection: 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07PYZMVFS/ref=cm_sw_r_apa_i_0NCJEbRF31X2G

Show Notes: Reflections of the Resurrection: Tuesday, Mary the Mother of Jesus (Day 3)

Scripture Readings

Luke 1:26-38—The Angel Visits Mary
Luke 1:39-56—Mary and Elizabeth
Luke 2:1-21—The Birth of Jesus

Luke 2:22-39—Jesus presented at the Temple*

Luke 3:1-23—John the Baptist and Jesus
Mark 6:14-29—John the Baptist killed
Luke 4:16-30 & John 8:48-58—Jesus threatened
John 19:25-27—At the Cross

To purchase your own copy of Reflections of the Resurrection: 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07PYZMVFS/ref=cm_sw_r_apa_i_0NCJEbRF31X2G

Show Notes: Reflections of the Resurrection: Monday, Mary Magdalene

Scripture Readings

• Luke 8:1-3—Mary Magdalene and the other women followers
• Matthew 26:57-67—Jesus before Caiaphas
• Matthew 27:11-26—Jesus before Pilate
• John 19: 25-27—At the foot of the cross
• John 20:1-18—Jesus appears to Mary Magdalene*

Link to purchase your own copy of Reflections of the Resurrection:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1732692629/ref=cm_sw_r_apa_i_p2QIEbGYA072M

Show Notes: Reflections of the Resurrection: Palm Sunday (Day 1)

Ordinarily there is a complete transcript of the episode here in the show notes. This week, since I'm reading my book, I've provided a link where you can purchase it for just $0.99. I will provide the scripture readings, additional study guide type questions, etc here for your use. Thank you for joining me this week!

Scripture Reading: Mark 11:1-11

Take time to consider how this year is different. How can the upheaval of covid-19 allow you to draw closer to Jesus? How do you want to remember Easter 2020?

Link to purchase:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1732692629/ref=cm_sw_r_apa_i_s6JIEbHX9EPRG

Noah's Ark; or how to Shelter in Place

Usually when we trot out the story of Noah's ark it's either an extremely watered down and G-rated version for children, or it's to talk about Noah's extreme faith and obedience.

But I want to get beyond cutesy coloring pages, flannel boards, and first impression take aways. I don't claim to be a brilliant theologian. I struggle with Lewis as much as the next guy unless we're adventuring in Narnia. However, it seems to me that when we want to learn how to shelter in place, Noah is the only one we have to turn to.

The Israelites wandered, David fled all over the countryside from Saul, Joshua conquered, and Daniel defied.... but Noah got locked inside and had to stay.

It's really easy to gloss over that. We talk about the preparation to build the boat. How he must've been laughed at and mocked. We talk about the animals coming two by two (and the seven for ceremonial reasons). We talk about the forty days and nights of torrential rain. And we talk about the dove and the olive branch and the rainbow.

There's actually a whole heck of a lot of time between God sealing the door shut and when Noah and family disembarked. It's about a year actually. About twelve months of sheltering in place. No leaving. Not even for a gallon of milk. Of course, they had a cow so that must've helped.

I've been in on lengthy discssions about the animals. Were they babies? Did God allow them to sleep so the scary ones didn't eat everybody on board? And what about the saltwater and freshwater creatures?

But right now, I wanna know about Noah and his family. And we simply just don't know. The scriptures don't tell us how they felt and what they did. Yet, I think we can make some inferences here with our own experiences of the unprecedented.

That word. It's ubiquitous now, isn't it? But we don't have any other way of saying, "I've never done this before! None of us have! I don't know what to do!" Instead we say, "oh, this is so unprecedented!" And Noah surely must've felt that strain. It had never rained before. And we also know waters erupted from below the Earth's crust. Um, yikes. If I've never seen or heard rain before, and it's a continuous torrential downpour and there's also water coming UP from the ground, I'm going to be scared. I assume Noah and his people were afraid.

That doesn't mean they didn't have faith. That doesn't mean their righteousness was diminished. It means they were humans living through something they had never lived through before. And I don't care what it is--that always creates some fear. Even good things we've never done before make our pits sweat--like falling in love or talking to your favorite banjo boy in actual rational sentences. It took me 2 years but whatever. The point is, new things are scary things. And when those things are actually destructive and threatening, it's normal to be scared.

Even if the danger is "out there." Noah and family knew that they were safe inside their ark. But how do you float in peace, knowing that others are suffering outside? I have to assume this was a very dark and difficult experience for the Noahs. Perhaps it was even traumatic despite the fact that they weren't at risk.

So the rains finally stop. They float awhile longer. The boat finally comes to rest on Mt. Ararat. They wait awhile longer. They open up a window and the ground isn't ready to sustain life. So they wait. Then the bit with the birds. And they wait.

There was so much waiting. Can we also go ahead and assume the Noahs got bored? The same eight people for a year. And...well, for a long time after that actually. The same animals. At some point, the lions and lemurs and llamas had to stop being a novelty. Unless the sons of Noah were like the Wild Kratts. In which case, I'm going to assume their wives wanted a real break from all the over excitement after a while. Yes, I think they got bored and they got tired of each other. The logistics of sleeping, eating, bathing, cleaning, and just living day after day in a boat with your parents, siblings, and in-laws had to be a real exercise in patience.

Yep, I think this is us right now. We're stuck inside and starting to go bonkers already. And let's face it: We're scared. We're inside aware of the suffering outside in our hospitals, around the world. And unlike the Noahs, we don't know for sure that we're safe and sound even as we shelter in place. This virus is "slippery". That seems to be an actual term to describe it as it mutates and spreads. I don't like slippery, even when we're talking about soap. I like to have a grip on things. And right now, that's really hard to achieve.

And if you're one of the "essentials" who has to go to work all the advice to make the most of this doesn't apply to you. And if you're a healthcare worker, truly, my prayers are with you.

So where's the happy takeaway? Don't worry, I do have one.

Here's what else I deduce from what we don't know about Noah: God must've been performing miracles in their midst as they sheltered in place. Somehow or another all the animals fit and they didn't eat each other up. The specifics are unknown but clearly, miraculous. They had enough food and water to last the journey. How produce didn't rot and decay over the course of a year, I don't know. Miraculous. They didn't throttle and kill each other! Eight people went in and eight people came out. I'm being slightly facetious with this one, but it does seem as though everyone was still on speaking terms when they left the boat. Relationships were sustained despite extremely strenuous circumstances. Miraculous.

God is performing miracles in our midst too. As we shelter in place. I shared previously in a Gather the Good about all the beautiful things artists are doing on social media. The human default setting is panic and selfishness and anger. But we see people choosing beauty instead. And in that, there is peace and joy. That's a miracle. Needs are being met and will continue to be met. People are buying extras not to hoard but to donate to food pantries and hungry school kids. In grocery stores, people are giving older folks and weeping mothers out of their share so they can be nourished and safe too. That's miraculous. And we have knowledge and soap and Purell and indoor plumbing which is so much more than most humans have had been facing a pandemic and certainly more than Noah on his boat. I think anyone from another age would look at all these things we take for granted and declare it, "miraculous."

And we have the internet where we connect. Artists with their beauty. Pastors with their encouragement for their flocks. Writers with their words to try to describe and explain this unprecedented time. Friends with their love unlimited by walls and six feet of space. The internet is indeed miraculous despite what the darkness has done to it. We can still use it for good. And we should and we will.

One day, we will look over our shoulders and see more miracles that we do not have eyes to see right now. For now, shelter in place and keep the faith.

Gather the Good

1. Patrick Stewart, A Sonnet a Day Keeps the Doctor Away, Instagram
2. Sarah Clarkson, Psalms & Poems, Instagram
3. The East Pointers (and friends), #Annedemic, Facebook at 6pm EST
4. We Banjo 3, daily doses of all sorts of music, Instagram, Facebook, YouTube. 
5. Yo Yo Ma, Calming Songs, Instagram
6. Josh Gad, Picture books for Kids, Instagram daily at 7pm EST
7. Annie F. Downs, Picture books for kids, Instagram daily at 7pm EST
8. Andrew Llyod Webber, musical selections, Instagram 
9. Andrew Peterson, read aloud of his novel Wingfeather, Instagram daily at 8pm EST
10. Donation concerts, indie bands everywhere. Check their social media for details. 

Remember to Chalk the Walk, put a teddy bear in the window, and hang your Christmas lights!! 

Happiness on the Horizon

"Oh, happiness is just around the corner from you, even when it feels like there is nothing you can do when you're sitting in the dark there. Oh, happiness is just around the corner!"-- We Banjo 3, "Happiness" 

It's about ten-thirty on Monday March 16th as I write this, and in just a few days, my world has become very small. And I am not alone.

We're all feeling the smallness of not just our four walls, but our place in the world. None of us can stop the pandemic. None of us can stop the widespread fear. None of us can undo a ban or restriction. And that powerlessness can fuel the fear already thrumming through the world, the fear of getting sick, the fear of a loved one dying. It's a lot. We have to admit that it's a lot. Because if we don't admit it, we're not being fair with ourselves or each other.

But once we've admitted it. Once we've looked the fear square in the eye, washed our hands again, and hunkered down in our homes...then what?

I'm not here to give you a bucket list. Which, I actually think that name might not be a great one right now. You know, since it's a list of everything you wanna do before you kick the bucket.... But I digress. There's plenty of that out there if that's what you're looking for so I don't feel the need to add.

No, my addition to the world is hope. I want that to always be my addition to the universal discussion. And this time, I'm talking hope with the help of my boys in We Banjo 3.

No, they're not guests. I can only wish. And maybe hope David will get bored enough during this social distancing. Just kidding. Sorta. Dave, if you're listening, I'd love to chat kindness and banjos.

But I'm totally gonna talk about one of their songs. I can't tell you what it means to them or why they wrote it. Instead, I'll tell you what it means to me right now today in this pandemic.

Happiness. Sometimes we dismiss this word. Like it's too trite and not as meaningful as it's big sister Joy. I actually love that it's the word the boys chose for their song. Whether or not we sound very sophisticated saying it, happiness is something we all crave.

We have an inate desire for laughter, amusement, and entertainment. We long for connection and relationship. We actively seek out that which delights us. This is all part and parcel of happiness.

Sometimes happiness flows free and easy, like a healthy stream rambling through the forest. And other times, happiness is elusive, evasive, and evaporated, like a mirage in the desert.

Unless this is your first time here, you know I've struggled with depression my entire adult life. Not every day, or every season, mind you, but consistently. So when David sings about, "sitting in the dark", I get it. There are times when happy is gone and darkness has settled.

It feels like that now on a worldwide level. The darkness of disease and unease is spreading. The pandemic is not only covid-19, but disappointment, anxiety, panic, and worst of all, grief.

Thank the Lord for those holding onto the light and lifting it like a candle. We see them on Instagram and other social media places. And we have them in our own communities. Friends who bring you groceries or toilet paper. Friends who text and call regularly to see how everyone's doing. Family who FaceTime because visits are unwise but connection matters. We are holding the light even as we shelter in place.

And happiness is just around the corner.

The boys call this the Irish verse, "it rains and rains and rains and rains and rains and rains for days, suddenly one bright morning all the rain has gone away. The sun is on the horizon. Oh happiness is just around the corner." And you know what? They're right.

Oh, not about it being the Irish verse. Although, yes, it can be quite rainy there. They're right about happiness.

In times of grief, one day you discover your face is tight with a smile. Then your chest clenches with laughter instead of sorrow. Even if it only lasts a minute or so, happiness has started to take back ground from the dark.

In times of depression, one day you have a sudden spark of interest in something. And then just as suddenly, some energy to actually do the thing. And you reach out to make a connection. There it is--happiness.

In this time of uncertainty, that isn't unprecedented for all history but it certainly is for anyone living it out now, happiness is around the corner. It's in the beauty we choose to create, see, and share. It's in the connection we make in spite of "social distancing". It's in the way we've been made to slow down, to dig deep right where we are and who we're with. It's in the way we choose to believe that although it may get darker before it gets lighter, happiness is on the horizon.

So, while we're waiting and praying this out, pursue some happiness. And give what you can to those around you, both in financial and material ways, and also in beauty, grace, and kindness. And listen to some banjo tunes. Guaranteed to make you smile for at least three to five minutes.

And wash your hands.