The Next Right Thing

My niece and I went to see Frozen 2 on Friday. I’m happy to report that we both gave it a thumbs up and declared that we would see it again if asked. I don’t want to give any spoilers, so I won’t write much about the film, but I will say this: It wasn’t a typical Disney love story.

In one scene that is uncharacteristic of other Disney films I’ve seen, one of the characters has a total crisis of belief and sings one of the most beautiful songs I’ve ever heard. For anyone who has ever battled with grief, depression, anxiety, or any other dark night of the soul, the song captures the truth that we have inevitably discovered: All we can really do in life is the next right thing—take one right step at a time—not try to look so far into the future that we become overwhelmed by the reality that we see nothing—not try to look so far into the future that we become overwhelmed by the possibilities of what could go wrong (or right).

As the song in the movie says:

“Just do the next right thing
Take a step, step again
It is all that I can to do
The next right thing

I won't look too far ahead
It's too much for me to take
But break it down to this next breath, this next step
This next choice is one that I can make

So I'll walk through this night
Stumbling blindly toward the light
And do the next right thing
And with the dawn what comes then?
When it's clear that everything will never be the same again
Then I'll make the choice to hear that voice
And do the next right thing…”

I have a sign in my room that says, “Dee says, ‘One step at a time.’” It’s my footprints from 1st grade. My students sometimes ask me about the footprints. I tell them what they are and they are fascinated that I had feet when I was younger 😊.

I doubt any of them will ever realize the significance not of me having feet when I was younger but of the message that I am trying to send them every time they enter my classroom, but I can hope: One step at a time, dear students. One step at a time. Don’t try to speed up your childhood. But don’t try to slow it down either. Move forward with purpose—knowing that there is a future to come. But move forward deliberately—always trying to do the next right thing. And if it turns out that you made a mistake, don’t worry and fret—simply start from where you are and do the NEXT right thing.

You can do it, dear student. You can do it, dear friends. We can do it together…this next right thing.

He Was Himself

I like movies, yet I seldom actually see them. And when I do, I usually leave wanting to see more because the previews have drawn me in. Sometime last year, at a rare movie theater visit, I saw the preview for The Book of Life. I immediately knew that I wanted to see it and that I wanted to see it with Barb. She does a unit on Mexican art and culture and focuses on Dia de Muertos each year, so I knew The Book of Life would be perfect for us. But guess what? We didn’t get to the theater to see it.

On Tuesday night, I had the opportunity to hang out with some friends. After going to dinner and visiting every pet store in Sanford, we found a Red Box and rented…The Book of Life. I enjoyed it. Barb did, too. And you know what’s really weird? I wasn’t hanging out with Barb! Yes, dear friends, Barb and I ended up watching the same movie on the same night at the same time…completely unplanned and unbeknownst to one another…and it was the exact movie that I’d wanted to see with her!

As Barb and I briefly discussed the movie, she reported that the movie was “close enough” to actual tradition and folklore and I reported that “the story had a good message. He [one of the main characters] overcame his greatest fear. Being himself.”

[This difference in reports actually makes me chuckle. Barb’s is very factual and to the point. Mine is very much steeped in feeling and philosophical meaning .]

The character to which I’m referring and whose name I cannot remember came from a long line of bull fighters. While he, himself, had a true talent for bull fighting, he didn’t love the sport and couldn’t make himself end the fight by killing the bull. As a result, he became a disgrace to his family, and to add injury to insult, he openly shared his love for music—which was seen by almost everyone as a joke. In a pivotal moment in the movie, when a wager was placed that our beloved character could not defeat all of the spirits of bulls killed by all of his ancestors, he made a crucial decision: He decided to use his guitar and voice to sing to the final bull instead of defeating him with his sword. He sang a ballad to the bull and asked him for forgiveness for the sins of his ancestors. The bull forgave him and the spirits disappeared. He won the wager.

Throughout the movie, everyone assumed that our character’s fear was in the act of killing. But that wasn’t it. His fear was in disappointing his family by being himself. His family wanted him to carry on family tradition and live by the bull-fighting sword. He wanted to break family tradition and live by music—and love.

It was only when he chose to be fully himself that he truly faced life and overcame his deepest fear. And it was only in that moment that his family truly appreciated who he was—and they actually embraced him.

Now. For those of you who have seen The Book of Life, you might be wondering if you saw the same movie as me. I just made it sound very serious and meaningful—and that moment was to me—maybe it was to you, too? But the whole movie is actually bright and colorful and centered around a holiday and love story and full of humor. And I liked it. And Barb did, too…as we saw it in two different locations…together…each of us seeing it with eyes that reflect exactly who we are.

The Things We Do For Love

Until Saturday night, I’d only seen Forest Gump one time. Now I’ve seen it one and a half times. It’s really a very good movie, and I can’t help but smile when I think of Forest’s unwavering, selfless, and steady love for the people in his life. One of my favorite parts of the story is when Captain Dan, having disappeared from Forest’s life for a couple of years, appears at the end of Forest’s boat dock. Forest is so excited to see Captain Dan that he immediately jumps off of his shrimp boat and starts swimming to the dock. Meanwhile, Forest’s boat is left unattended and eventually crashes. It’s very funny. But it’s also very moving just how genuinely excited Forest is to see his friend.

Love causes us to do weird things sometimes—things that we might not do if we stopped to think about them for a moment—but things so very wonderful because they come from a place deep inside us that we cannot control.

Yesterday, while the kids were playing foosball, Jack sustained a small injury. As the bruise on his hip started to move outward from foosball pole’s point of impact, I said, “I’ll go get you some ice.” Amelia immediately chimed in, “I’ll go with you.” Amelia held the bag for me as I filled it with ice and declared that everything would be just fine. Then, on her way out of the kitchen, with no previous thought or plan, she said, “Oh. I’ll grab him a York Peppermint Patty. That’ll make him all better.” And it did. Because Jack’s bruise never really moved beyond that dot.

Later in the afternoon, after Jack’s York Peppermint Patty had healed him, he volunteered to pull Amelia, Griffin, and Charlie on the paddle board as he kayaked. His dad, my brother, chaperoned on another kayak and his mom paddled along on another paddle board. I’m not exactly sure what happened as my brother tried to get out of his kayak but something went wrong and the next thing I knew his kayak was taking in water and Jack had jumped in to help get his dad out. The thing was…my brother had on his life jacket and wasn’t going to sink. But Jack, with no conscious thought or plan, jumped in to rescue his dad with nothing but himself. No noodle. No life jacket. Just love.

Forest and Jack jumped in the water. Come to think of it, Peter did, too, when he saw Jesus long, long ago. Amelia healed with a York Peppermint Patty. Jesus healed with his life.

Love causes us to do weird things sometimes—things that we might not do if we stopped to think about them for a moment—but things so very wonderful because they come from a place
deep inside us that we cannot control.

When is the last time you did something weird for love? What’s more: when is the last time someone did something weird for you?

I Take My Stand With Anna

I try to avoid writing about controversial subjects, but I’m going to write about one tonight: The movie Frozen. While I wrote a little about the movie exactly one month ago tonight, I didn’t really delve into anything divisive. Tonight, though, I’m going to make a somewhat bold statement:

I’m not a huge fan of Frozen.

More specifically, I’m not a huge fan of Frozen’s power-ballad, “Let It Go.” I think it happens too early in the movie, before Elsa’s character has developed, and I think it’s entirely too big for the moment.

Even more specifically, I’m not a fan of how much press Idina Menzel has gotten for singing the song or how many people have decided to make it their karaoke favorite.

I like Idina Menzel. Don’t get me wrong. I liked her in Rent and I liked her in Wicked and I have no major objection to either of those soundtracks. In fact, I think that the power-ballads are perfectly placed and I support their karaoke singing.

But not “Let It Go” from Frozen.

It really bothers me.

In my estimation, “Let It Go” isn’t what Frozen is about. And Elsa’s character isn’t the one who should warrant the attention.

It’s Kristen Bell’s character, Anna, who makes the movie what it is. It’s her character who is faithful. It’s her character who never gives up on her sister—even when her sister pushes her away. It’s her character who believes in something more. It’s her character who is fun-loving, full of life, daring, and brave. It’s her character who is steady yet consistent in growth. It’s her character who experiences and feels the full gamut of emotions. It’s her character who sacrifices herself for love.

Yet she doesn’t sing the power ballad.

And so she is overlooked…

I know that the first will be last and that the last will be first. I know that we are to live and serve and act humbly and selflessly. I know that we shouldn’t desire to sing the power ballad but to be content with our place in the choir.

But sometimes it’s nice to be validated in stubborn love.

And sometimes it’s nice to acknowledge that the little guy really can make a huge impact.

So tonight, dear friends, I take my stand with Anna.

I want to build a snowman.

And I want to sacrifice myself for love...