My house rings the same sounds of many American parents today. Of course I’m talking about the sounds of Disney’s Encanto.
My son is enthralled with its bright colors and plot line. A few weeks ago, he was watching it. Suddenly, as Luisa sings, “I move churches,” he looks up to me and says, “Mommy, you’re a real life Luisa.”
Don’t get your hopes up. I am not that strong physically, but he drew an interesting parallel between Luisa literally moving churches and me being a pastor.
“You think so, baby?”
“Ya, Mommy, you don’t ask how hard the work is, you get it done, and you always, always help everyone.”
“Thanks, baby.”
Suddenly he’s back into his show, singing along, blissfully unaware of the pain that comes with being a Luisa.
Disney surely knew what it was doing in the crafting of this character, and I am one of many with whom she resonates. It’s like, that song somehow gave voice to what it’s like being the caregiver in the family. What it’s like being a real life Luisa.
I am such a blessed person. In my immediate family, I have myself, two beautiful boys, an amazing sweet baby sister, and my mom, all of whom are disabled in some capacity. And I am Luisa, the carrier of all the weight. I don’t regret this, and I rarely slow down to think about how heavy the weight is; when we do that, we melt down, just like Luisa.
But the boy is right, I am a lot like her. These lines from her song resonate with me:
“Under the surface
I think about my purpose—can I somehow preserve this?
“Give it to your sister, it doesn’t hurt and
See if she can handle every family burden
Watch as she buckles and bends but never breaks
No mistakes”
“Give it to your sister and never wonder
If the same pressure would’ve pulled you under
Who am I if I don’t have what it takes?
No cracks, no breaks
No mistakes, no pressure”
Somehow, everything in the family becomes my responsibility. Some would say that’s bad boundaries. Much of it is unavoidable because I am the one in my family most available (I make my own schedule) who can take care of myself and others.
Photo credit: Ivan Samkov on Pexels.com.
We know, those of us who are both siblings to special needs adults and parents of special needs children, the one who can fulfill the need carries the load. That’s me. But watching the movie also reminds me that, much like Luisa, I have lost the joy in being a servant to my family. It’s become a burden and a pressure.
I don’t happen to believe this is God’s will for us. He knows it’s a heavy weight, but it’s not just ours to carry. He wants to carry it with us. He wants to bring people into our lives to help in practical ways. And it’s just over these last few months that I’ve allowed that to happen.
Being a caregiver becomes our identity. I don’t believe that is God’s will for us, either. Our identity was always meant to be found in Christ; this relationship will more effectively fuel our capacity to give care. Still it’s a heavy weight to release and allow God to carry it with and for us.
I want to speak to my real life ‘Luisa’s for a moment.
You are more than this role. You are chosen, accepted, loved, rejoiced over, celebrated, delighted in, strong, beautiful, and cherished by the God who made you.
Your family may need you, your sister may need you, your brother may need you, everyone in the world might need you. They won’t have you if you don’t take care of yourself, too.
You are worth more than that which you can give to others. You are worth more than that which you can do for others. You are worthy because God Himself said so on the cross, and you don’t have to do anything special to earn that worth. Take time for you—you both need it and deserve it.
It doesn’t have to be big or fancy, though it can be. Today I went out to lunch, went for a walk and was reminded of this song. My son has had it playing constantly on my phone, so my phone thought I wanted to hear it again. I took time to just be me, and Jesus. And I am going to be a better caregiver for it.
As a fellow Luisa, I beg you: find somebody to tell when it hurts and somebody to help carry the burden. Because as people, pressure will cause us to break. But remember, you can only be pressurized when you’re sealed; if you’re open, there’s no room for pressure. And when you can’t be open with anyone else, you can always be open with God.
“Cast all your anxiety on Him because he cares for you.”
Joanna French is the special needs pastor at Flint Hills Church, Junction City, KS. Joanna and her husband Jairmie have two boys with autism. In 2017, Joanna started Flint Hills Embrace, with the goal to make Flint Hills Church a place where everyone belongs. Why? Because we all have a place in God's plan.
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