Dear you,
I guess I have a thing for letters these days. I think it is a new found perspective that these words the Lord strings together, through my inadequate fingers on a keyboard, are meeting the eyes of someone else. I wrote this for you, so why not just make this a little more casual than what can sometimes feel like a post that was worked on for hours on end and edited to perfection. Let me tell you right now, I’ll do good to make it through this one, it sure does hurts to write it. This one is a burden that has been on my heart for years but it seemed to get a little heavier tonight.
This Is Us.
We have fallen in love with the big three and the concept of a family that wades through the transitions and unexpected circumstances life can throw at you. We must not forget that the title of this show is not only indicative of the Pearson family, it is also us.
But tonight, it could have been more like: That was me.
I watched the latest episode, the one we all knew was coming, with three of my closet friends. Silence seemed to be the only reaction we had when the commercial breaks would come around. All I could think the whole episode was about the harsh reality that someone could make an episode of that day and it be my story. All I could think about was you. You, accompanied by so many others, who found themselves having the similar thought. I didn’t cry because Jack died. I cried because I was reminded that loss is real in more peoples’ stories than I can even begin to fathom. I cried because their name might not have been Jack Pearson, but they had a name.
I cried because I know that I am capable to write a detailed script and hand it to a director with the details of the day my dad died. Even as an eight-year-old, I know what it looked like behind that door that opened up to my newly discovered reality of a life that I didn’t ask for. I cried because I thought of my mom and all the other moms, who just like Rebekah, didn’t have a choice, other than courage, to go and deliver a load, and oh how I know you did it with as much tenderness as you knew how.
That day. Your day. I know you replay it. I do. I know that there are things that trigger it and press play on that memory, without you even choosing to do so. I know that a TV show episode like last nights takes you into a boxing ring where you aren’t sure how to defend yourself from a reminder of a pain that was/is this strong.
I need you to know that pain is a liar. That day, to remember it is to remember how it felt and pain will try to tell that nothing in this life will define you more than that moment. Pain will try to tell you that you are what you have been through. Pain will try to tell you that you are still there, stuck. Pain is a liar.
I drove home afterward thinking about the day my dad died. I have struggled for a long time with feeling like that day will forever define me but something in me clicked. I saw that the truth of the gospel is the truth that we use to fight back against the lies pain makes us try to believe.
The most defining day in my life was not the day my dad died. The most defining moment in your life was not the day you lost ____.
The most defining moment for us all was the day that we came to see Jesus clearly for who He His. It was the day our eyes met the cross of Calvary and the empty tomb. That day, that is the day that holds the most power over us. It is a resurrecting power. From dead in our sins, He ushered us into the promise of eternal life.
It has been fifteen years. At times it feels like I am still who I was on that day but as tears streamed down my face last night, I knew that pain was speaking lies and I would interject with the promises of a God who calls Himself a shepherd. He holds a rod and a staff that comforts us. He has healed. He has put back together broken pieces of the story.
There was an awakening in me. One that rattled me to my core. One that desperately wants the Lord to use this journey of mine to call people forward into the hope Jesus offers. I have always believed the Lord would use my pain for a purpose. I have seen how He has graciously allowed me to cross paths with those on similar journeys, people like you. Up until last night, I thought the call was to meet people where they were and it still is but now my prayer is going to look a little different.
I want to meet you where you are but I want the hope of Jesus to pull you forward.
You see last night, I saw where I was that day but I also saw where I am today and oh far has His grace, mercy, and unfailing love has pushed me forward, even when steps felt impossible to take. I have covered more ground that I was aware of and as write this to you I hope you come to know that you are covering ground too. That same grace, mercy, and love are pushing you forward and one day you will look back, like I did, and see that He is a God that does not let us stay in that day.
I told Satan that I know he probably intended for the latest episode of This is Us to take me on a downward spiral but I also told him that bringing back a memory of pain would no longer silence me on the goodness of God.
I thought about not watching this episode because I knew what it would entail. I knew it would take me back to that place but I now know that going back sometimes is about just getting the chance to tell someone that they too will go forward. Don’t you see it? Going back really is the kindness of the Lord. It is His reminder to us that as unaware as we might be, that the only thing that has the power to keep us is His love.
So this is to you. To the one who replayed a tragedy in their mind. To the one who is fighting against the lies pain is telling you. To the one who just hurts. To the one who cried. To the one who will miss Jack Pearson but misses someone else even more. To the one had to go back even though it is the thing that terrifies them the most.
I see you. I get it. You aren’t the only one.
It was me.
It was you.
This is Us.
We went back but we don’t stay there.
I pray this letter pulls you forward a little bit.
xoxo,
the girl who isn’t the same as she was that day
