What happens when nine people begin therapy together? On Justus’s Day, a paintbrush, a watercolor, and an ordinary trip to Safeway become a way of thinking about speaking freely, protecting one another, and learning to help without putting anyone on the hook.
Tag Archives: Childhood Trauma
Everyone Needs a Face
A childhood photograph I once could barely look at has become the face of my ten-year-old son. On Han’s Day, two photographs, an old therapist, and a morning together teach us something about trauma, joy, recognition, and what it means to believe someone when they tell you what you cannot see.
Just Love Me
When Proverb tells Dad, “I’m not real to you,” he does not mean that Dad doubts he exists. He means that believing a child is real has consequences. On Luke’s Day, a plural family of nine discovers the difference between saying children have a voice and building a life in which their voices actually matter.
This Belongs to Us
This morning, while Dad held four-year-old Jude, he found himself thinking about what was happening to us when we were Jude’s age—and about the difference between what happened to us and what truly belongs to us. Some things were never our purpose. Other things—the good memories, our home, our family, and even a slow cooker filled with Jude’s Stew—are ours to keep.
And We Are a Family
Last night, while Dad held Han, something became clear: the longing between father and son had always traveled both ways. Today, as we prepare to meet a therapist, we are learning that asking for help does not mean becoming less of a family. Maybe it means learning how to live more fully as the family we already are.
Give Us This Day
How much does Proverb have to signal before Dad trusts what he already knows with his heart? On a day filled with fear about therapy, money, work and the future, we discover that we are allowed to ask God for what we need—and that agency may begin with one small thing that belongs to this day.
What Does God Want Us to Build?
Yesterday we asked, “Under what conditions can we act?” Today, on Han’s Day, we find ourselves asking what comes next: What do we carry across the bridge from the life we had, what do we leave behind, and how do we discern what God wants us to build?
The Mailbox
For most of our life, people have looked at the extraordinary things we could do and the ordinary things we could not do and asked, “If you can do that, why can’t you do this?” Today, a trip to the mailbox helped our plural family of nine begin asking a different question: Under what conditions can we act?
You Get to Be Seven
A seven-year-old goes quiet. Daddy realizes that love has accidentally become a burden. A day of memories, friendship, repair, and the unseen work of a plural family becomes a lesson in what it means to let a child be seven.
It Smells Like Home
What is it like when an adult and eight children share a body, mind, inner world, memories, relationships, trauma, and an ordinary life? Sometimes the questions are enormous. Sometimes being Dad means admitting you need help. And sometimes it means chopping an onion and making dinner.
