Stepping back on stage, delivering my lines differently
Sometimes I wish my life came with a laugh track. You know the sound—that gentle cue in a sitcom that tells you, “This is awkward but not the end of the world.” Like when Laverne (Penny Marshall) would boss Shirley (Cindy Williams) around and they’d turn their backs and not-so-quietly snark at each other. Or when Eunice (Carol Burnett) and Mama (Vicki Lawrence) hurled insults across the diningroom table. The music swells, there’s a beat of misunderstanding, and by the final minute, everyone is hugging, eating ice cream, and all is well again.
Real life doesn’t come with a laugh track. When my daughter snaps at me, my brain doesn’t hear lighthearted music, it jumps straight to the dark channel: She’s angry at me. She’s tired of me. She wishes I’d move away. Maybe she even hates me. It’s not pretty. And the story isn’t even true. But like an unwated hot flash, in a nanosecond my mind turns it into a whole tragic season arc.
Yesterday, after a bleak start, I saw it clearly: this is a story I’ve been telling myself for decades. The story that if someone is upset, it must be my fault. The story that I’m not good enough. The story of rejection, whether it’s actually happening or not.
And yet, here’s the real scene: my grandson teasing me, my daughter laughing, the three of us together—a family that’s weathered so much and still holds one another close. For years it was just my daughter and me—you and me against the world—until Craig came into our lives. And now a Grandson and a son-in-law, and our circle continues to grow.
So today I’m rewriting the script. I don’t need to cancel the whole season every time there’s tension. Like a sitcom, misunderstandings can happen, feelings can flare, and then we can make up and move on. Love doesn’t vanish because of one messy moment.
I’m not making light of our squabbles—they are real. We all get tense, irritated, and even angry. But we are learning to lean into and trust love.
If you’ve ever caught yourself telling an old story—They must hate me, I’m not enough, I’ve ruined everything—maybe you can rewrite the script too. Add a laugh track. Picture the final scene ending with hugs and dishes of icecream. Remember the love that stays, even when things get messy.
Because maybe healing isn’t about erasing all the drama. It’s about knowing we can step back on stage, deliver our lines differently, and still end up held in the arms of those who love us.
Journaling Prompt
When you’re ready, take a few moments to write. No editing—just let your sacred voice speak through your fingers.
- What old story do I tend to tell myself in moments of conflict or misunderstanding?
- How true is that story, really?
- What new script—lighter, kinder, maybe even with a laugh track—would I like to write instead?
Sacred Closing
May we remember: misunderstandings are not the end of the story.
Love has a way of outlasting our scripts,
of softening the hard edges,
of turning even the heaviest drama into a gentle scene of reconnection.
May we choose love, again and again.
Excellent, Lee!
Thank you, Dawn, so happy that you enjoyed this!