Category: Mental Health

Posted in Faith, Family, Friendship

It Doesn’t Matter

Posted on by Esther Goetz
IT DOESN’T MATTER IF YOU ARE
Chinese, Italian or Jamaican
homeless, gawd-awful rich or straight-up middle class
a rule-follower, rule-breaker or completely confused about what the rules are
cleaning lady, a Wall Street executive or a farmer
a pastor, a rabbi or a tribal chief
homeschooling your five children, completely isolated and alone, or headed to work
five, twenty-five or ninety-five
a bookworm, a Netflix binger, or a gardener
liberal, conservative or dip some of your toes in each space
scared, carefree, angry or heart-broken
YOU BELONG TO ME.
WE BELONG TO EACH OTHER.
NOW MORE THAN EVER!
Posted in Celebration, Faith, Friendship, Thanks

A Beautiful Mess

Posted on by Esther Goetz

I’m headed to a place this morning where pain is shared, joy is celebrated, grace is abundant, hope is plentiful and love looms large.

This is a place I can’t live without.  Everyone should have one of these.

It’s my refuge, my anchor, my lifeline.

You see, where I’m going, there’s…

…one who is wisdom that makes my “self” smart.

…one who is joy that brings a laugh to my heart.

…one who is gentleness that reaches deep in my soul.

…one who is peace that guides me to be whole.

…one who is light that counsels my spirit to shine.

…one who is faithfulness that connects me to the “Vine.”

…one who is grace that keeps me looking “Up.”

…one who is generosity that fills up my cup.

…one who is goodness to help me feel truly blessed.

…one who is kindness that allows my spirit to rest.

This place is going to look a little different this morning, but it’s going to feel exactly the same.  Warm.  Safe.  Love.  A Beautiful Mess (#ourfancygroupname).

This morning, we will share our pain, celebrate our joy, grant grace in abundance, muster our hope, and lavish our love.

I can’t wait.

P.S.  There are some who have scattered and I miss you terribly.  You will always belong to us.   Never forget that.  You are light and love and hope and joy and peace right where you are today.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Celebration, Childhood, Family, Grandparenthood, motherhood, Thanks

Today Changed Your Life Forever

Posted on by Esther Goetz

Dear Brand-Spanking-New Mama,

Today has changed your life forever. You will never be the same. Your beautiful baby girl has been born.

Feelings have bubbled to the surface that you didn’t even know existed, the very first being

LOVE unimaginable, unexplainable.

But I can promise you that won’t be the only one. You’ll be pummeled by ALL. THE. FEELINGS. every day for the rest of your life.

FEAR that your house will catch on fire or that no one will invite your new 5th grader to sit with them on the bus.

LONELINESS in the middle of a room full of other moms or in the middle of a sleepless night.

CONFUSION about how to feed your baby the right food or feed yourself the best information.

JOY over the first wobbly steps taken across the family room or the last confident steps taken across the graduation stage.

ANGER at the unfair teacher, your sassy toddler, her phone, your out-of-control self, the mean girl at lunch, every form of consuming media, the unhelpful doctor, on and on and on.

GUILT about not being enough or being too much.

SADNESS when the bus pulls away with your kindergartener or when your teen pushes you away, leaving you a heap on his bedroom floor.

THANKFUL for the smile laced across your middle-schooler’s face at the Holiday Chorus concert or the smile on your bride-daughter’s face as she dances with her groom.

28 years later, you will be in the middle of a three-way kiss between your baby and her baby, and that very first feeling,

LOVE, unimaginable, unexplainable,

will swallow up all the others, multiplying itself once again, which you never thought possible.

From my heart to yours,

Filled-to-the-brim-with-love, Old Mama

 

 

Posted in Faith, Family, Friendship, Grief

Sheer, Terrible Beauty

Posted on by Esther Goetz

One very ordinary Thursday, a precious friend poured out her heart to me about her son’s death by suicide.

******

“She’s gone,” I heard my brother say on the other end of the line. “We sang and prayed with her.” His wife had succumbed to cancer on that fall Saturday morning.

******

I received a terrible phone call that my best friend from high school’s two daughters were killed in a wrong-way crash by a drunk driver. It was Good Friday.

******

“Do you want me to come over?” I asked my close friend as soon as she spilled the ugly news that her brother had taken his own life.

******

I could go on and on and on. Loss. Death. Unstoppable grief.

So much sadness. So little understanding.

Each person loved so fiercely.
Each tender one lost too early.
Each story shared bravely with me.

*****************************************

Nothing is more sacred than to share another’s pain. It brings both great sorrow and surprising healing. Each time I enter into this very “holy ground” space, I count it as one of the greatest gifts I will ever know in this lifetime, the gift of another in their most vulnerable and real and raw place. Sheer, terrible beauty.

For those of you who have wildly loved and lost a precious someone, I pray today that you would find a safe space to share your true heart, the one that might be hurting. I pray that those who listen would dive deep and sit still and share some measure of your grief and suffering, so that you would feel unexplainably loved and cared for. I pray that in God’s vast wisdom, compassion, kindness, mercy and love, He brings unfathomable healing to you in the places only He can reach.

We share every part of this life together, including the great sorrows we face, arms and hearts wrapped around each other, each one of us helping the other hobble along toward redemption.

*****************************************

Please feel free to share the first name of someone you have loved and lost in the comments. I would just like to hold the space for them today.

#grief #healing #hope

Posted in Childhood, Faith, Family, Grief, motherhood

Mommy has canser (#leapday2016)

Posted on by Esther Goetz

“Mommy has canser.”

“I went to the Turtle Back Zoo.”

“I like ice cream.”

Leap Day 2016.

Three short thoughts written as part of a letter I had my nine-year-old niece write in a letter to her future Leap Day 2020 self.

My eight-year-old nephew wrote one too.

Four years ago, these two every-day kids came to stay with me for several weeks while their mom was undergoing intensive treatment for “canser.”

Four years ago, they didn’t know if their mom would be here for Leap Day 2020.

Four years ago, they were kids whose favorite movies were Frozen and Star Wars (like every other tween girl and boy).

It’s now Leap Day 2020.

I sent my now twelve- and thirteen-year old nephew and niece their letters 500 miles away.

Four years have passed since those words were penciled on loose-leaf paper.

Four years, where they have endured the worst: the loss of their mom.

Four years, where my brother picked up the pieces and entered in a new normal without his wife to help him navigate the journey without her.

Four years, where my then 17-year-old niece (the “older sister”) gathered her own heart together and plugged away at her future as a nurse one painful and healing day at a time.

Four years, where this little family laughed and cried, played and worked, fought and made-up, just like the rest of us.

Leap Day 2016 feels like yesterday, those two kids sitting at my kitchen counter, their future unknown, penning words to themselves.

I didn’t know if heartache or hope would come before those letters were read four years later.

Yes, heartache came in like an untamed beast, threatening to rip this family to shreds.

BUT that is not the end of the story.

Four years later, I can say HOPE reached in louder as God took extra, tender care of this little family without their wife and mom.

Four years later, there are two budding teens who are smart and kind and full of life, with friends and pets and who still secretly like Frozen and Star Wars. HOPE.

Four years later, there is a man who has fought hard to help his family take their next right steps and love each other no matter what comes their way. He rocks as a dad! HOPE.

Four years later, there is a Registered Nurse, who trusted God and got up every morning to go to school, putting one foot in front of the other. She started her first job this month. HOPE.

Leap Day 2024.

Four years from now. What will life bring?

To my brother and his family?

To me and mine?

Frozen 3? Ten more Star Wars movies?

Laughter? Tears?

Work? Play?

Fights? Forgiveness?

Heartache?

Yes.

But, that will not be the end of the story.

HOPE will reach in louder.

God will take extra, tender care of us all.

#thereisgreathope #leapday2020 #herviewfromhome #hopewriters #dollymamanj

Posted in Anxiety, Faith, Family, Friendship, Grief

Fear Keeps Me…

Posted on by Esther Goetz

Fear keeps me from loving deeply.

Fear of rejection.
Fear of losing myself.
Fear of embarrassment.
Fear of pain.
Fear of not being enough.
Fear of abandonment.
Fear of grief.
Fear of failure.
Fear of being swallowed up.
Fear of loss.

If I love deeply, every last one of those fears might come true. Many of them already have.

But, it’s a risk I am trying very hard to take every single day, no matter how afraid I am, because…

If I love deeply, I will also find ALL of these along the way:

Grace.
Life.
Kindness.
Intimacy.
Acceptance.
Tenderness.
Joy.
Goodness.
Empathy.
Peace.
Belonging.
Mercy.
Trust.
Healing.
And ultimately, LOVE.

Fear may win a few skirmishes here and there on the battlefield of my heart, but deep LOVE will win the war. That’s a guarantee from LOVE HIMSELF.

Posted in Celebration, Childhood, Family, Friendship

Keep ‘Em Coming

Posted on by Esther Goetz

People thought we were having an affair as we sat at the community pool and laughed and hugged and engaged in some seemingly very serious conversations, while snacks and towels and “look what I can do’s” piled up from the six children we had between us.

I guess they were kind of right.  We did love each other very much.  I was closer to you than almost any other man on this beautiful planet.

But they were also very very wrong.

You see, you were not my “lover,” as the gossipy types might have whispered about in the parking lot with soggy kids in towels yelling, “can we please go home now?”

You were my brother and one of my very best friends.

You still are.

********************************************

Today is your 60th birthday.  I’ve known you for 53 years, 11 months and 10 days, since the day I was born.

You were forced to be my brother, just because of sheer genetic willpower, but you chose every single day to be my friend.  I can’t thank you enough.

You taught me how to ride a bike when I was just five and you were a big giant 10-year-old.

You were the one I went to crying when I wet my pants in class at boarding school.  You told me it was going to be okay.

You were happy when I was your “little annoying sister” in the school play.  You even helped me memorize my lines.

YOU DID NOT HAVE TO DO ANY OF THAT.

You told me I was super smart and could be anything I wanted and not-so-secretly told me I should go to medical school when I was older.

You wrote me a long letter from college when I was a young teenage girl encouraging me that I was valuable and to cling to Jesus during those tumultuous years after you had learned some hard lessons during yours.

You included me in your wedding as a junior bridesmaid, making me feel like a grown-up and highly important.

YOU DID NOT HAVE TO DO ANY OF THAT.

You had me and some boyfriend of mine over for dinner, inviting us to share your heart and your home once you were living on your own.

You became my actual pastor once I graduated from college and you had 200+ young career singles in your care.  You taught me how to love God (even though you spit when you talked and I was sitting in the front row receiving all that lovely spray).

You co-signed a loan for my “new used” car after getting the call that I had totaled my other one.

YOU DID NOT HAVE TO DO ANY OF THAT.

You performed my wedding and I’ll never forget the charge to us about the “fire covenant” we were making with each other.

You became my neighbor in a little sleepy town and we shared birthday parties and trick-or-treating, community pool jaunts (as you already read) and Christmas afternoons.

You wound up being the “watcher of my high schoolers” so that my hubs and I could have short getaways that probably saved our marriage.

YOU DID NOT HAVE TO DO ANY OF THAT.

***************************************

The bottom line is this.  You were always there for me, in ways big and small, seeing me through the good and the bad and lots of the ugly.

I thought that was my favorite thing about you, but I was wrong.

When some really tough stuff came into your world, you did the most incredible thing of all.  You allowed us to reverse roles just a little bit and made it okay for me to care for you the way you had taken care of me for so many many years.

Because of your humility and your bravery, I finally saw you, the amazing, kind, strong, faith-filled, vulnerable, tenacious, loving man that you are.  It only made me love you more.

You, my friend and confidant, my cheerleader and my brother, are one of the best people I have ever known or will know.

The only thing that could be better than knowing you ALL of my life is if I had known you ALL of yours.

Happy Birthday!

KEEP ‘EM COMING!!!

 

‘

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Faith, Family, Friendship, Marriage, motherhood

The Place Where Love’s Root Can Dig Deep

Posted on by Esther Goetz

“Like what I like.”
“Think how I think.”
“Do what I do (and how I do it).”
“Be who I am.”

For years, this was my life’s mantra.

Husband. Kids. Friends. Coworkers. Strangers.

“Make decisions quickly.”
“Enjoy watching football.”
“Be an extrovert.”
“Believe every doctrine I espouse about God.”

On and on the list went, my goal to transform everyone into the spitting image of myself. It wasn’t ill-intentioned, but it was just plain old yuck (for lack of a better word).

I was missing out on the beauty of diversity and the celebration of our mutual differentness.

What a gift when the “scales” fell off my eyes and I could see the truth of this crucial life lesson: these people are NOT me NOR should they be.

WHAT A GIFT of the OTHER!!

It’s where life can be truly enjoyed in all its fullness.

It’s where love’s root can dig deep and blossom into a bouquet of grace.

*********************************

It means discovering the life-giving rhythms of silence and solitude from my introvert husband. (This Esthergizer Bunny needs these desperately.)

It means processing math lessons with my teacher daughter, along with unearthing the compassion she has for the struggling student, allowing for my own heart to come alive in ways I would never have known on my own.

It means hearing stories about the latest sales strategies from my second-born and possibly implementing them into my own little life’s goals of writing.

It means asking (and then actually listening to the response) about the latest headphones on the market from my tech-savvy recent college graduate. (The current sound system in our family room is to die for.)

It means getting a late-night text from my California-dreaming daughter about how her dreams are coming true, which means mine are too.

It means allowing each of my friends to be perfectly themselves, right where they are, without an agenda in my back pocket. They bring gifts every single time I am with them, gifts I would never receive if they were just like me.

It means leaning in and learning from all of you beautiful souls who are so incredibly different from me. I thank God for YOU!

*********************************

“Like what YOU like.
“Think how YOU think.”
“Do what YOU do (and how YOU do it).”
“Be who YOU are.”

I will be much richer and fuller and happier because of YOU.

Posted in Faith, Thanks

My Grouchy Lady Bug Self

Posted on by Esther Goetz

I went to Zumba at the Y. I was a little cranky when I got there. Okay. A lot cranky.

I stood in the back corner, hoping to just endure the work out and not do any damage to my after-the-holidays body.

The instructor came into the room, all bubbly and shouting things like, “You’ve got this! We’re going to have fun! New Year! New You!”

I stayed a little surly, hoping no one would notice my secret eye-rolling and “hmph”ing.

She continued with her cheerleadery excitement, smiling and sharing about the exploits of her holiday with her grandson while we kept pace (or at least tried to).

My grouchy lady bug self slowly began to become a little less crusty. Layers of irritability peeled one by one as she continued spewing her ever-hope-filled words.

At one point right in the middle of it all, this brown-haired, pony-tailed, encouragement in bodily form asked the 10 sweaty women to form a line with our arms around each other’s shoulders and do a little Zumba stepping in sync.

WHAT? This was a little over the top, even for my not-so-cantankerous, new you” self. I didn’t want to touch anyone else, but what was this people-pleaser to do?

We came together and fumbled our way through her directions, smiles and laughter erupting, along with clapping and high-fives before we went back to our respective lonely corners.

The last several minutes whizzed by and my crabby heart melted into a completely new form. I felt like the transformed Grinch of Christmas lore. Yes. A “new you.”

As I skipped out of class to meet my weight-lifting husband and son to venture back to our home in the woods, I stopped and expressed my thanks to this beautiful soul, “You just MADE my day.”

I will be back at the Y for that class and this time, I might arrive with a spring in my step instead of a pout on my face.

#encourageoneanother

Posted in Family, Grief, Marriage

Broken Together

Posted on by Esther Goetz

THIS HUSBAND OF MINE…

A man who with impeccable integrity.

A man who wants to be liked by all.

A man who gives his all until the end.

A man who wants peace (sometimes at all costs).

A man who keeps getting help.

A man who struggles to stay engaged.

A man who is kind.

A man who wrestles with anxiety.

A man who keeps fighting for healing.

A man who is broken in many ways.

 

THIS WIFE OF HIS…

A woman who loves fiercely.

A woman whose self-worth is often based on her performance.

A woman who wants others to have undeniable hope.

A woman who judges harshly (at times).

A woman who keeps getting help.

A woman who struggles with maintaining good boundaries.

A woman who is generous.

A woman who wrestles with anxiety.

A woman who keeps fighting for healing.

A woman who is broken in many ways.

 

THIS MARRIAGE OF OURS…

Two who love when it’s especially hard.

Two who hurt the other (even on purpose).

Two who muster up grace and forgiveness.

Two who judge and criticize little things even when we’ve vowed not to.

Two who voice our deepest fears to the other’s listening heart.

Two who keep trying to change the other.

Two who make space for the beautiful and the messy.

Two who share an unshakable faith in the Lover of their souls.

Two who keep fighting for healing.

Two who are broken in many ways.

 

BUT…

WE ARE NOT BROKEN ALONE.  THAT WOULD BE OUR UNDOING.

WE ARE BROKEN TOGETHER. 

STAYING TOGETHER. 

HEALING TOGETHER.

 

(Inspired by my friends at I Do Part Two and the song, BROKEN TOGETHER, by Casting Crowns.