Oscar Needs Love Too
“Just because you’re trash doesn’t mean you can’t do great things. It’s called ‘garbage can’, not ‘garbage cannot’.”
I have always had this unexplainable nudge to heal the wounds of the Oscars around us—the ones who villainize themselves to corners of their lives and wear an invisible “Approach With Caution” sign. I wouldn’t say I am an extrovert who loves the rhythm of people-ing or wanting to be at the center of others, but as an introvert, I am an observer, a one who can sit in a room full of humans and control how much of myself I give to a space and discover who God may want me to pray for; and I have found myself to be more like Oscar in more ways than one. I am not grouchy but I have been quieted by life in some seasons and with the resiliency I gained, not always as gracious towards others who present as intolerable or downright mean all because life happened to them. I am honestly concerned about unhealed people who don’t want to do more so they can heal. I want people to disassociate from anything that does not mature their worldviews or shift their perspective in ways that helps them to show up in the world with a little more joy and a lot less pain. I am beginning to wonder if I am teaching my daughter how to write a narrative of joy in her life and re-read her experiences when life comes at her hard, fast, or confusingly.
I don’t take myself to be the only one who believes that in all the diversity that makes up the world, Oscars matter. I think they remind us that we should forever be in the business of healing and helping others who desire healing, to heal. What does it look like for unsupervised moms like me to take full responsibility for my own Oscar-ness and model the healing work for my kid? What does it sound like to teach my daughter how to extend grace in a world that is affected by trauma, conflict, division, impatience, and hyper-independence against the backdrop of the desire to fulfill purpose, deal hope, and live a soft life?
I think I’m going to give these solutions a better spin in the new season so I can continue becoming a better version of me and impart better in my daughter:
(1) Be honest about my capacity and my boundaries. Honoring my limits helps me give generously and avoid burnout, teaching my daughter that self-care is not optional, but necessary.
(2) Defy every version of “can’t”. Breaking through limiting beliefs reminds me—and her—that anything is possible with faith and perseverance.
(3) Save for the fun things. Life isn't just about responsibilities; it’s also about joy, and planning for the moments that makes them even sweeter.
(4) Put my phone down more. Being present allows me to build deeper connections with my daughter and savor life’s fleeting moments.
(5) Be less offended by others’ humanness. Extending grace to others gives me the license to embrace imperfection, lead with compassion, and be free of heartache.
Give these a go so your garbage cans don’t become garbage can’ts.
