We Are More Than the Crash

Last weekend I saw the movie Gran Turismo. Great movie, highly recommend. It had an interesting storyline with a plot that moved, well-developed characters, highs and lows that had me both laughing and near tears. It was more than a movie about chasing your dreams or overcoming the odds. It was about how we choose to define ourselves—and how we choose to define others.

The part that meant the most to me (tiny spoiler alert) was when Jack Salter tells Jann Mardenborough something like, “That crash won’t define who you are, but how you respond to it will.”

How often do we get stuck on the things we’ve done wrong? How often do we choose to define someone by a single mistake they made? It’s like looking at the world through a pinprick on a piece of paper rather than seeing the whole, big, full picture.

I know I have been guilty of this in the past, but through the flames and fire, bombs and boulders I’ve been through this past year I am learning to put down a narrow scope of vision and see people for all they are, not just one mistake—or even a hundred mistakes. I know I don’t want to be judged or defined that way. Rather than being defined by the “crash” I’d rather be defined by the way I respond to it.

I write this for myself, to continue to remind myself. I write this for one I love who has had far too many people who have chosen to see him through that pinprick rather than as the whole picture; people who have chosen to define him by the crash rather than the way he has responded to it—hard work, dedication, change and a determination to continue to do and be better. I write this for others, hopeful that my words may have sparked a desire to see others, and themselves, for more than the thing or things they’ve done wrong. We are so much more, and we can bring so much more love, hope and beauty to the world when we choose to do this.

Outside the Box

Outside the Box
by Tacy Gibbons

Black and white.
Day and night.
Dark and light.
Step outside the box.

Colors vibrant.
Skies of violet.
No more confinement.
Living outside the box.

Good or bad.
Happy or sad.
Sane or mad.
Step outside the box.

Different truths in life.
Joy even in strife.
Being alive.
It’s all outside the box.

I wrote a poem to show how beautiful and amazing life is outside the box—to show there is joy outside the box. I think most people live inside a box. I know I did for many years. Sadly, this past year I have seen dozens of people who have spent their whole lives testifying of beliefs that, once challenged, failed to stand by them. People who claimed to believe in forgiveness who found an excuse not to forgive. People who thought they believed in compassion who refused to give it to someone who they didn’t like. People who testified time and time again of Christ, then conveniently forgot His teachings and turned away from those in need, just like the priest and Levite in the parable of the Good Samaritan.

Now, I’m not perfect. I too, at times, have had a black and white and either/or view of the world and life. Blessedly, I have also been inspired this past year by a few individuals who have stood by their beliefs and helped me grow into someone I never knew existed. They are people who live outside the box, seeing beauty in the various vibrant colors in between the black and white. They are people who are true examples of Christ-like love. For that, I am incredibly grateful.

The thing is, most people probably think they are living outside the box. I did. It has been the choices I’ve had to make in the midst of explosions that could break me that helped me see there was even more out there. Even more I could become. Even more of the world to experience in all it’s agony and beauty.

Poems and Vulnerability

In her book The Gift of the Unexpected Jillian Benfield says, “Vulnerability is not weakness. It takes tremendous amounts of courage to be vulnerable with others and even to ourselves . . . Vulnerability is required for us to live wholeheartedly as ourselves.”

The world tells us otherwise. The world tells us vulnerability is weakness. It tells us to put up a good front. It has changed the meaning of, “How are you doing?” to simply mean, “Hello,” rather than, “I actually care about you and truly want to know how you are doing whether it’s good or bad.” The world tells us to buck up, deal with it and get over it. I, however, add my belief to Jillian Benfield’s. Vulnerability is not weakness. It really does take courage, and it does help us live as our true selves.

I don’t believe that being vulnerable means opening the door to complain about anything and everything. It’s about be open and honest—either with someone else or even just ourselves—about the difficult and painful parts of our lives. This whole blog is me opening myself up in the hopes that my vulnerability will speak to someone else, will help someone else, will make a difference to someone else—if even one person. I’m being vulnerable again by sharing a couple of poems I wrote recently. I told my husband I felt ashamed after writing them, because I felt like I was being whiney and ungrateful. He told me it wasn’t ungrateful to have dreams or struggle when I wonder if they’ll ever happen. As I look back, I do see dreams that have been fulfilled. Going to Hawaii. Playing in a performance group again. Going to the Rock ‘N’ Roll Hall of Fame. That one had been a dream for over twenty years! Remembering this has given me some hope. I do think we can be grateful and also have times of struggle. Both can coexist. Both can be true at the same time.

Dreams
by Tacy Gibbons

Maybe dreams are only meant for those with means.
Oh, I know the platitudes—
“Dreams do come true,
you just have to make them happen!”

But what if that involves sacrificing something more valuable?
Then the dream isn’t really worth it, is it?

And yet, how do you burn something
bred from the most colorful and creative depths of your soul?
How do you forget the child you used to be?

I wrote this poem in my journal. Afterward, I wrote, “It feels unfinished, but that’s how I want it to feel. It’s how I feel. Unanswered. Unsure. Unfinished.

Someday
by Tacy Gibbons

Travel the world. Someday.
Publish a novel. Someday.
Take my kids on a humanitarian trip. Someday.
Go birding to distant locations. Someday.
Buy a new, updated camera. Someday.

Someday, someday, someday.
Does it ever become today?
Or does it hang above the horizon,
always out of reach,
no matter how fast you run toward it?

Someday.

Do you think you can be grateful even while struggling with thoughts of dreams and hopes of someday?

Sometimes We Still Need Help

Sometimes, when we see people smiling, laughing, seemingly having it all together we assume they do have it all together.

Sometimes, when we’ve given service to or helped someone in need we assume they’ve taken that help and are all good. We’ve done our part, they’ve done theirs, and they don’t need anything else.

Sometimes, when people stop talking about their struggles or “enough” time has gone by we assume life has gotten easier for them, and we don’t have to think or worry about them.

Sometimes, it may be true. Often times, it’s not.

As someone who’s lived with depression the majority of my life, I can tell you that there are still moments of genuine smiles, laughter and happiness. That doesn’t mean we have it all together. And even when we are happy or doing good emotionally, it doesn’t mean things have gotten any easier or we should be left alone. This year has been the hardest of my life—and I have had more joy than I’ve ever had. And things have only gotten harder.

I’ve learned that even when things are good, or seem good, it always makes a difference to have someone who checks in—someone who genuinely wants to know how we’re doing. I’ve learned that even when I have been the recipient of service and gotten help from others, I still can’t do everything on my own. And that is hard to admit. It’s hard to ask for help. If I do, will others think I’m just lazy? Will they judge me for not even trying? Are they going to think I need to just get over it? Am I going to appear weak and incapable? I’ve learned that even when I may not think I need help, help is always good and always makes a difference.

Luckily, I have been blessed with a few people who do continue to check in, provide service and help out—even when I haven’t asked for it. I’m so grateful for their love and for their example.

Not all struggles, difficulties, trials are short-lived things that should be easy to overcome. Some last months, years, or even an entire lifetime, and some people could really benefit from extended love and help. It’s hard to admit. It’s hard to share. And we can do hard things.

Daughter of Phoenix

I wanted to do something special for my kids before they go back to school–their first day is tomorrow. My son has gotten really into transformers. He’ll spend hours a day transforming them back and forth. I found one he wanted that was actually affordable, so I got that for him, which he has loved! For my daughter, 16, going into 11th grade, I wrote a poem. It may not mean a lot to her now, but I hope it will someday. My words are my soul, especially in the form of a poem, so it was a piece of me I gave her. She is an amazing human being! She’s resilient, kind, loving, accepting, compassionate, forgiving, quirky, funny, passionate, and just all around amazing. Here is the poem I wrote for her (in Haiku style):

Daugher of Phoenix
by Tacy Gibbons

Strong and resilient,
beautiful beyond measure,
daughter of Phoenix.

The fires that rage
do not destroy, only
refine. Born from the

ashes. Rising up
in brilliance; glory. She is
daughter of Phoenix.