harrietart

I wanted to share with you a writing by Ann Voskamp that has inspired me every step of this journey producing the show. It’s what I’ve read every time I wanted to give up, or when I needed inspiration or a reminder of why we’re doing this. If you have a moment, reading this will give you a glimpse into my heart for the show and the cause we are advocating for.  Artwork by our artist Harriet Stanley.

Dear Thriver,
You didn’t just survive, so let’s toss that myth right out at the outset. I’ve seen you living chin brave through the hurt and how you keep taking one step out of bed and one through the door. How you scale mountains by relentlessly taking steps forward. The way you keep walking? You’re no victim. You’re a thriver. You may bleed, but you rise.

I’ve seen your wounds. Not that you badge-flash your scars, or try to hide them ashamed. It’s just sometimes I see a passing lficker in your eyes, an old pain shooting right through. But mostly, quietly, the scars just become you, who you are. They become the way your skin pulls mottled and raised over your soul and this is how you fit.

How can you look healed and thickened, and still feel so thin? Inside, the warrior is small. The Kingdom belongs to such as these.

I just- I just wanted to reach out and – just touch, glance your wounds. You don’t have to say anything, explain anything, excuse anything. I just wanted to touch them, acknowledge them. Because wounded warriors win. You are so brave to keep facing the light, to keep walking towards home.

Hang on. Press in. Look up.

Can I just whisper? I know you must feel people have wanted you to go away. Sweep your scars under the proverbial rug. Erase you, avoid you, silence you. Because it’s too uncomfortable for us; the community, the neighbours, the church, to face our own culpability in scars; face our own fallen disfigurement. We don’t want to know details or listen to wounds weep, or wade into the bloody mess.

We would rather make pain invisible than say injustice is intolerable. So the injustice continues.

So we pretend you don’t exist, so we can pretend the sin that caused this wound doesn’t exist – because ultimately, we don’t really think the Wounded Healer exists.

Thriver, there’s a whole lot of us who believe; who are getting to our feet and sticking out our necks. We want you to know – we want you. You, not masked, not prettified, but you, with your messy scars and your tender blue places, and all that just-below-the-skin-hurt. Because when we ignore suffering, we ignore the Suffering Savior.

We need you. We need to cup your tear to water hard and crusted places. We need your raw story – or we lose hope of redemption.

We need to hold your broken heart, or we have no heart.

– Ann Voskamp

 

Invisible is a show about women’s vulnerabilities playing at Theatre Junction Grand, June 14-15, 2013.  All proceeds go to Hope Home, a house in Calgary opening 2013/2014 for pregnant girls with no where to go.  You can purchase tickets here.