McMusing: Holding Hope for the Future
You do have a future. You just can't see it right now. I will hold it for you until you get there.
Gleaned from a Facebook post on June, 21, 2021, the picture below is from series of memes I created to promote Brave.
I found this in my memories from three years ago (now six):
About a year ago (before publishing BRAVE) I had someone "pat me on the head" and say, "Yes, new authors always think they have an important book." He then continued to tell me I wouldn't have any idea how to "make it happen." When I told him I thought I would but it would really be God, I could almost hear the scoff—despite a Christian reference in his company title. At that point, I just figured God's reputation was on the line.
So, the guy was a jerk. Yet, I can be grateful for the pat on the head because it was a great motivator. He wasn't completely wrong, he simply discounted both me and God. And he was a terrible businessman.
Rule #1: Don't insult those who could make you money.
His strategy was terrible. He should have figured out a way to join me on the adventure. But I get it. He could not see the possibilities.
When I wrote the story about Jeannie and me on the train platform (included below) there was nothing in my life that could have predicted my current life. I was not far past the day when I sat on my therapist's couch and told her that I had no future. She said, "You do have a future. You just can't see it right now. I will hold it for you until you get there."
What a beautiful way to hold space for another hurting human. She didn't question my faith. She didn't admonish me to think more positively. She didn't tell me I needed to trust God more. She didn't discount how I felt. She simply held my future until I got here. And neither of us could have imagined this future! But God (and a lot of tenacity) . . .
Who do you know that is discouraged and without hope for their future? I had lost so much at that point, but I was preparing to gain so much more. I needed someone to hold that future I could not see.
I am now doing all I can to pay that day forward.
Go find someone today who needs you to hold their future!
Excerpt from BRAVE: Healing Childhood Trauma
I was standing at the platform and the train was in the station. The door of limitless possibilities was open and my future was right on the other side. What was holding me back?
What held me back is the understanding that this choice would in some ways determine my future. Not that I couldn’t make choices as I went along, but the choice to tell my story would determine the general direction of my life.
Behind me stood a crowd who had come to cheer me on. Some, like those in my writing class alumni group, knew exactly what I planned to say. Others kind of knew. Still others were clueless and were just cheering the “me” they thought me to be. Then there were my children—all grown and living their own lives. They were cheering simply because I was Mom, but after stepping on board the train, my story would be part of our future as a family. I can’t help but consider them—and the grandchildren.
No, this decision couldn’t be made on the basis of the cheering crowd. It was an existential problem only I could decide. Probably only two people understood the soul searching—my husband and Dr. Sue—but they couldn’t decide for me. It was my choice.
The question was: Could there be meaning to my life outside of stepping onboard the book express? Absolutely, but once on board, there was no stopping the train. I could run to the front of the train and decide where it should go—maybe, but no emergency brake existed. There was no saying, “Oh, that wasn’t a good idea; I should get off now.”
So I had to be sure. It was important to look inside my soul to see if there was any other choice. On the days when a choice was evident, it wasn’t really very appealing. It involved hiding and hoping someone didn’t tell my story without my permission. It involved fear and living in the cage of my former self. It involved watching others live in their pain and never giving them the hope for healing that I had to other. It involved hearing discussions about mental health and never adding to the conversation. It involved allowing ignorance to have a voice but silencing my own.
Well, when put that way, it wasn’t really a choice, was it? It seemed there was not really much of value I would lose by getting on board—but there was so much potential loss by standing on the platform for the remainder of my life.
Back to the existential question. Could there be meaning to my life outside of stepping onboard the book express? I am more than my story, and my life is more than my story. So, yes, I could continue to heal and find meaning in a life filled with quiet pursuits, family, and friends.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jeannie—my small child self. She was composed of so many parts of me: my warrior, my explorer, my problem solver, my writer, my comforter, and so much more. She was opinionated and strong. She was resilient and tenacious. She had her hands on her hips and she was glaring at my indecision. She fought to save my life and now she wanted me to live it—freely.
I held out my hand to her. I was feeling old and tired from my journey. I was not completely healed. I needed her. I needed to remember who I was inside—at my core.
The train was starting to pull out. She grabbed my hand, and we began to run. We both laughed as we leapt onto the train and rolled across the floor in a tangled heap.
“Are you OK?” I asked her.
She laughed. “Of course I am. You are the old one.”
“You are right! But you help me feel young again. Thank you for helping me catch the train.”
And with an impish look, she said, “You’re very welcome, but we need to get up there and take control of where this train is headed.”
I watched her begin to run toward the front of the train. She was always in the yellow dress, and her chin was always set in determination. What could possibly be any more meaningful than being on an adventure with this child inside of me? What could be any more important than helping her live out the life she was meant to live? What would she do? I wondered. What did she want to tell the world? Where did she intend for the train to go? What absolutely delightful surprises did she have in store for me?
Hefting my body off the floor, I thought, “I better get back in shape if I intend to keep up with this one!”
Running after the child “me” in the yellow dress, the train lurched, and we both laughed as I stumbled and then caught up with her. She grabbed my hand, and we were off!
The decision was made, and the book needed to be ready before the train took the next turn. Jeannie and I had our hands on the controls, and we were headed to our future—together.
I could not have imagined how that choice would bring hope for healing to so many around the world. (Logins at my website).
