Archives For My Life

Dancing with Papa

Melissa Hatfield —  May 14, 2013 — 2 Comments

528412_10151596365271343_1155164758_nOn the last Sunday of April, my dad took my 5 year old niece on a date. Every year our local public school district puts on two dances for girls in grades kindergarten through fifth and a man in her life. Sometimes it is a dad or a grandpa or an uncle. Sometimes it is a friend of the family or a caring adult from church. The girls get dressed up and they spend a few hours one afternoon being treated like a “princess”. They dance. They paint fingernails. They make crafts. They eat.

They feel special. They feel important. They feel beautiful. They feel loved.

I love that the schools do this event. It isn’t the princess part of it. My niece is incredibly girly but I’m not and never was. So getting dressed up and being a princess isn’t what I find beautiful. What I find beautiful is that a moment is being created for a little girl and a special man in her life. For a few moments, phones or work or responsibilities are set aside and people are present with each other. And I imagine that many little girls in that big open room finally feel close to a daddy that otherwise seems distant.

My niece was so excited to go to this dance with her grandpa. She practiced her dancing and gave pointers to grandpa several days out about dancing the Harlem Shake and Gangham Style. She was excited about dressing up in her fancy dress from a cousin’s recent wedding where she was the flower girl. The day arrived and Grandpa put on his best suit and tie. Morgan was smiling ear to ear when she saw him. My dad reached out and put a beautiful wrist corsage on her little wrist and Morgan’s smile was brighter than the sun. She felt beloved.

My loving dad and my beautiful niece at the Papa and Princess dance sponsored by our local public school district.

My loving dad and my beautiful niece at the Papa and Princess dance sponsored by our local public school district.

We took lots of pictures and sent them on their way to their special day together. The women all wished we could go and watch but that isn’t the point. It was their moment. But a dear friend of mine snapped this picture of the two of them dancing and sent it to me. I love it for so many reasons. It gave us a glimpse into the dance and what they were experiencing.

But mostly I love it because of what I see happening between my dad and my niece.

As excited as my niece was about this special day, when they got there – along with several hundred other adults and little girls – she got overwhelmed. And nervous. And just a little scared. Those of us who know her well can see that on her face in this picture. She so wanted to dance but she lacked the courage to leap into the moment on her own.

What I also see in this picture is my loving, protective father holding onto her to assure her she is safe. He has her. And it is okay to dance. It is okay because they can dance together. After some time, she relaxed and she enjoyed the special afternoon with her papa.

I will forever adore this picture. This precious captured moment.

I will adore it because it captures the way my dad loves me, my sister, and now his granddaughter. He has always made us feel loved, special, safe, and supported. And he encourages us to dance. When we’ve been scared or overwhelmed or timid, he has held us and helped us to keep moving to the music of life. And when we couldn’t quite hear the song, he would hum it and move us to the beat until we could hear it again.

I’ve been so blessed with the man I have the honor of calling my dad. And I will forever be grateful that because of who my dad and my mom have chosen to be, the image of God as a Parent is the most endearing and comforting image I can imagine. I know many cannot say that but I’m very grateful that I can.

I will also forever adore this picture because I not only see my dad and my niece. I see my Abba and me.

This picture is a reflection of God and me that I’ve become more aware of in recent months as He has taught me about His extravagant love for me. He makes me feel loved, special, safe and supported. And God encourages me to dance. When I’m scared or overwhelmed or timid, He holds me tighter and helps me keep moving to the music. And when I can’t quite hear the song, God hums it to me and moves us to the beat until I can hear it again.

I listen to His heart, I watch His steps and I respond to His lead. I relax and I enjoy the special time with my Papa.

And we dance.

It is unfortunate that it often takes bad times or painful experiences to sometimes wake us up to beautiful things around us. Like an extra long winter makes us euphoric for the sun and a little warmth. Or like a crazy busy season of work leads us to crash and slowly remember the joy and necessity of rest or spending time with family.

One of the best sensations.

One of the best sensations.

It is unfortunate but it is also good. Because I don’t know that many of us would ever voluntarily shout “ENOUGH” and jump off the crazy train in order to frolic in green pastures and to smell roses and lilacs. To take of our shoes and let the cold grass squish through our toes while we make memories and moments with people that we love and people that we will come to love.

And perhaps that last paragraph was a little flowery than normal because I have narcotics in my system but I find I’m speaking more honestly these past few days. And if I may be honest … I love cold, squishy grass between my toes and rolling down grassy hills and picnics on blankets and impromptu dances in fountains and the smell of creation. What I don’t love is the crazy train. Especially the crazy train that I insist on riding solo.

The week before last was an unfortunate experience. And although I don’t want to relive the pain at all and I am doing tons better, I’m really grateful for the experience. For many reasons. God reinforced things he has been trying to teach me. God didn’t zap my sacrum. I did that. But He used the journey to grow some healthy things in me that we’ve been working on for awhile.

1. Gratitude - God reminded me on so many occasions of the countless things I have to be grateful for in my life and in the world. God used gratitude to take my eyes and thoughts off my pain and my circumstances and to be fully present with Him. It didn’t bring miraculous healing or lessen the pain but it shifted my focus from me to Him who comforts and who strengthens my spirit in order to deal with the pain and the work that would be required to heal. There is no better place to focus my eyes and heart than on my Abba who puts everything in perspective. When I look elsewhere, I get distracted and unsettled and pathetic.

2. Dependence – As I blogged about early on, I hate being dependent. I’ve always struggled with it. During this journey, I had no choice but to ask for help and to receive it. I can’t begin to thank my mom and dad enough for all they did for me. They rearranged their schedules. They drove me to countless appointments and work obligations. They went to the store for me, helped me dress, mowed my yard, checked in on me, winced with me. They spent hours getting things together for Mission JC that I could not do. If they could have, they would have traded places with me. Why? Because they love me. I’ve never doubted that for a single moment of my life but it is still humbling and overwhelming and one of the most beautiful things to know that you are loved so deeply. Their love for me helped me receive their help and I am a better person for being dependent on them. Their love embraced my pride in such a tight grip that it had no choice but to relent and embrace them back. And that brokenness has carried over to my relationships with God and with others.

3. Friendship – I think part of being independent is something I’ve developed over the years because I’ve seen so many friendships come and go. It is hard enough for introverts to let people in but it is especially hard to get close to people, to be vulnerable, to really share your heart when you know from experience that the odds are great that it will not last. Life is always changing. Jefferson City is a community where so many come for a short time and then they move on. And that is how I think I’ve approached a lot of friendships subconsciously. Guarded so that I’ll be ready to move on with minimal causality when the time comes. I’m realizing just how much beauty I’ve missed by approaching relationships this way. During the past two weeks, my amazing friends have reached out to me and have been there. And with my gratitude up and my independence down, I’ve been able to just relish the joy and gift of friends and relationships. Random texts to check in on me. Late night deck conversations that did more to lift my spirit than any drug (legal or illegal). And so …. :) I’m just so blessed with many wonderful people in my life and I want to be that some kind of wonderful friend to them.

Bad times or painful experiences are a part of life. Many of them are out of our control.

What we do have control over is how we respond to them and what we are willing to learn from them. I want to learn. I want to live life to the fullest that God dreams for me which I can’t even begin to imagine. His dreams for me far exceed anything I could ever conjure up. The only requirement that God asks of me is to leap. Don’t be afraid, Melissa. LEAP!

I want to leave you with these challenging words from none other than my hero, Brennan Manning. May they inspire you to leap as well.

“The unaffected heart is one of the dark mysteries of human existence. It beats dispassionately in human beings with lazy minds, listless attitudes, unused talents, and buried hopes. …. they never seem to get beneath the surface of their lives. They die before they ever learn to live. Years wasted in vain regrets, energies dissipated in haphazard relationships and projects, emotions blunted, passive before whatever experiences the day brings, they are like snoring sleepers who resent having their peace disturbed. Their existential mistrust of God, the world, and even themselves underlies their inability to make a passionate commitment to anyone or anything. Paradoxically, we attain self-awareness, not by self-analysis, but by the leap of commitment. According to Viktor Frankl, a person finds identity only to the extent that ‘he commits himself to something beyond himself, to a cause greater than himself.’ The meaning of our lives emerges in the surrender of ourselves to an adventure of becoming who we are not yet.

I’m gratefully surrendering myself to the adventure of becoming who I am not yet. And I’m so grateful to the people in my life who I get to live that adventure with and who allow me to be a part of their own adventure as well.

Morning Light

Melissa Hatfield —  April 22, 2013 — 1 Comment

My weekend took a serious nose dive on Friday due to a pain in the butt. Some of you had the same thing happen on Friday but you are thinking of a co-worker or boss or date or family member.

But I mean a literal pain in the butt.

Long story very short: I’m suffering from a dislocated/sprained tailbone. And by suffering I mean SUFFERING. And by short story I mean I have no idea how it happened. But it did.

It has been a long, emotional weekend. Despite what you might think, that is actually different than most of my weekends.

The only entry in my journal today.

The only entry in my journal today.

I’m tired from constant pain. I’m angry about missing out on big moments with my youth. I’m exhausted from never finding a comfortable position. I’m agitated about being stuck indoors and not being able to be active. I’m frustrated at my whining. I’m worried about how long the healing will take and plans I have made that are potential casualties. I’m ashamed because the pain I’m feeling is less and temporary while the pain many others feel is more and permanent.

And one of the biggest emotions: I HATE being dependent.

My parents had to put my shoes and socks on for me this morning. They had to load me in their car and drive me to church/work. They carried my bags. My mom had to lift my legs in and out of the car. My overworked dad mowed my yard and tended to my landscape while I stood on the deck and watched. (Standing is the least painful position and the deck meant I was outside.)

This weekend friends had to step in and take charge of a big youth event. Friends who had a free weekend suddenly lost it because I couldn’t take care of my responsibilities.

Throughout the weekend, friends jumped in to get me help, drove me around, ignored me when I said “I got this”, picked up my car, hugged me while I hurt, prayed for me, picked up my slack at church, etc., etc., etc. The list is long.

I feel helpless. I feel like a burden. I feel weak.

(Editor’s Note: This is where I ended my blog on Sunday night. Thankfully, I had enough sense to not publish it when I was drunk on chocolate and self-pity. A part of me knew that morning was coming. Morning often casts a new light on the dark.)

Morning came. Along with a new surges of pain from sleeping positions. Along with a 15 minute, frustrating maneuver to get out of bed. Along with the realization that it didn’t magically go away in the night.

But as the sun poured into my house through the windows, it also poured in gratitude. Gratitude for a new day. Gratitude for an Abba who reminds me that I belong to Him. Gratitude for a Jesus who takes my face in his hands and keeps my eyes on Him, not my circumstances. Gratitude for the Spirit that whispers Love to me to quiet the noise of discomfort.

And gratitude for the many people who love me. Friends who teach me the beauty of receiving help. Youth who show me that I matter to them and am missed. Family who demonstrate what the word family really means.

Morning often casts a new light on the dark.

And in the morning light, I feel loved. I feel grateful. I feel blessed.