Weâre watching Lilo & Stitch again tonightâmy kids and I.
Itâs one of those movies that wraps itself around your heart without asking permission.
Silly, sweet, deeply sad in places⌠and surprisingly wise.
Maybe itâs the music.
Maybe itâs the color and whimsy.
But for me, itâs always been the wordsâthose quiet, aching lines that say everything youâve ever wanted to say but didnât know how.
đż âThis is my family. I found it, all on my own. Itâs little and broken, but still good. Yeah. Still good.â
That line lands in the softest part of me.
Because if youâve lived through loss or transitionâor carried a love that didnât look like the picture you once imaginedâyou know what it is to gather up the pieces and still call them good.
Sometimes family is stitched together by biology.
Sometimes by friendship.
Sometimes by faith, or foster care, or the sacred work of second chances.
And it doesnât have to be perfect to be real.
It doesnât have to be whole to be holy.
It can be little and broken, and still⌠so very good.
đ âItâs me again. I need someone to be my friend. Someone who wonât run away.â
And isnât that the heart of it?
Even as adultsâespecially as mothers, caretakers, or those who carry invisible weightâwe long to be chosen. To be held in the middle of our mess, not just when weâre polished and easy to love.
This line brings us deeper. From family as a structure to belonging as a need.
Mental health isnât always dramatic.
Sometimes, itâs this: a quiet voice inside us saying,
âPlease stay. Please see me. Please donât run.â
For the anxious child.
For the grieving spouse.
For the overwhelmed mom.
This cry lives in so many of usâsoft and strong all at once.
đ§ âI know. Thatâs why you wreck things and push me.â
And when we donât know how to ask for love, we test for it instead.
We push.
We act out.
We sabotage connection before it can leave on its own.
This is emotional intelligence, wrapped in a childâs voice.
And oh, how much we can learn from it.
As a therapistâand as a momâIâve seen it again and again.
The tantrum that says âWill you love me even now?â
The silence that says âI donât know how to trust this.â
What looks like defiance is often just a heart afraid of being abandoned.
And the greatest gift we can give is to stayâespecially when itâs hard.
đď¸ âIâll remember you, though. I remember everyone that leaves.â
Because sometimes⌠they do leave.
And it hurts.
Whether by choice, by distance, or by circumstance, grief comes quietly into the room and takes a seat beside us. It lingers in the places we thought love would stay.
And yet, we remember.
We carry the voices, the laughter, the ache.
This is not just a movie about aliens and surfboards.
Itâs a story about memory.
About abandonment and attachment.
About the resilience that builds quietly in the hearts of childrenâand in the hearts of the parents who love them through it.
đ Love, Chosen Daily
If Lilo & Stitch teaches us anything, itâs this:
Family is not about perfection.
Itâs about presence.
Itâs about loving whatâs misunderstood.
Itâs about choosing each other, even when it would be easier not to.
Itâs about saying, âYou belong here,â not once, but over and over again.
This is the work of parenting.
This is the work of healing.
To offer love when it isnât earned.
To stay when it would be easier to walk away.
To believe that love can exist in the same space as mess, grief, and struggle.
đ¸ For the Families That Feel a Little Broken
If your family doesnât look like a picture-perfect postcard…
If your home is stitched together with prayer and patience…
If youâre parenting through mental health challengesâyour childâs or your own…
If your love feels more like a quilt of second chances than a glossy magazine spread…
Please hear me when I say:
Youâre not alone.
And itâs okay.
Your family may be little.
It may be broken.
But still good.
Yeah.
Still good.
With heart,
Patricia


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