Nicole Zasowski (MSMFT ’11) is a licensed marriage and family therapist, speaker, and writer. In addition to maintaining a private practice, her professional work includes leading marriage intensives at The Hideaway Experience in Atlanta, Georgia, and facilitating support and enrichment groups at various churches. She is the author of From Lost to Found: Giving Up What You Think You Want For What Will Set You Free and, most recently, What If It’s Wonderful?: Release Your Fears, Choose Joy, and Find the Courage to Celebrate.
JEROME BLANCO: In your recent book, What If It’s Wonderful?, you write about the practice of celebration and choosing joy in all seasons, even amidst the most difficult circumstances. It’s a moving and vulnerable book, as you share about your own journey of seeking joy amidst a series of difficult miscarriages. Some might wonder how one can suggest celebration in such circumstances. How do you position joy amidst such grief and loss?
NICOLE ZASOWSKI: I think it’s important to recognize that joy is not a denial of pain. In my experience, celebration is often misunderstood. We think of celebration as either a reaction to good news or a reward for an accomplishment. But at its best, celebration is a rhythm. It’s a practice that helps us experience more joy in the life we are already living—in both seasons of pain and joy. Many of us
are waiting for a reason to celebrate. We see our peace
and joy sitting on the other side of a dream realized, a problem solved, or a goal achieved. But when we look at the Old Testament, we recognize that God’s people didn’t celebrate when it was convenient or when they felt they had a good enough reason to do so. Their celebration was a rhythm of remembering God’s goodness, not a reward for their own.
JB: That’s a powerful way of reframing it. How does this look on a practical level? In particular, what can celebration look like after loss? Especially amidst the enduring pain that follows in the day-to-day and year-to-year afterward?
NZ: We rarely talk about the fact that joy is the most vulnerable feeling we feel because, when we hold something, it is automatically accompanied by the possibility of loss. When we’ve experienced loss or trauma of any kind, it can feel safer not to hold joy than to hold something that might break. We often protect ourselves by relying on pessimism and cynicism, assuming we will take the sting out of the pain if we practice disappointment and rehearse disaster. But the research is clear that this habit does not lessen the pain should “the worst” happen.
The only way to tolerate the vulnerability of hope or joy is through the practice of thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is the expression of the gratitude we feel, and it doubles the joy we would experience had we simply felt grateful in our heart. Expressing thankfulness to people in our lives or to God in our prayers gives us courage to celebrate God’s good gifts.
Another helpful practice is the practice of savoring. Savoring helps us experience more joy in the life we are already living. From a spiritual perspective, it’s a practice that keeps us awake to God’s presence and movement in our lives. To practice savoring, you take a mental picture of one small moment from your day, and you ask your five traditional senses what they will remember about this moment. This practice helps your brain notice and celebrate a moment of delight in your life that it would ordinarily dismiss as unimportant.
JB: I’m curious what all this looks like in a wider context of family. I think particularly about your book and your experience, in which you write about losses that affected you but also your husband—although not in the exact same way, of course. I imagine many will relate to having to navigate trauma and joy while doing so in the close quarters of family relationships too. Especially since no one person experiences the same thing in the same way, what does it look like to practice celebration together?
NZ: As a marriage and family therapist who practices the Restoration Therapy model, I believe our pain is not only shaped by our current circumstances but also by the stories we bring to those circumstances. What this means is that two people can experience the exact same painful circumstance and feel completely different feelings because of the different wounds they were already carrying when they confronted this painful situation. A spouse or other family member’s pain may not seem logical to us. Or we might even be tempted to feel alone or take offense if another person’s emotional experience is different than our own. But understanding others’ stories helps us hold compassion for someone else’s emotional experience and helps us realize that, when it comes to feelings, there’s no “right or wrong.”
Understanding others’ stories also helps us have compassion for others’ reactions to their pain. As a Restoration Therapist, I believe there are four main ways that people cope with their pain: blame, shame, control, and escape. While there is an important difference between understanding and excusing, it’s important to see these behaviors as symptoms of pain in a way that leads us toward compassion and connection. And perhaps most importantly: it’s easy to focus and dream about how others should be different in order for us to feel better, but we cannot control others’ grief and growth. We are only empowered to be a good steward of our own.
JB: Going beyond the immediate and intimate sphere of your self and your family, I’m struck by how much your journey of practicing joy in your book is tied to others close to you—friends, mentors, a wider community. How does this community play a part in your own practice and journey of celebration, particularly when others may be enduring their own season of difficulty or going through their own season of celebration?
NZ: The call to us as Christians to “rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn” isn’t always obvious or easy in practice. It’s important to recognize that joy and pain don’t cancel each other and can stand side by side. As a marriage and family therapist, I find that many people who are hurting are hesitant to share for fear that they will dampen others’ joy. And those who are celebrating breakthrough in their lives are often afraid that their joy will rub salt in others’ wounds. Also, we are tempted to assume that unless someone has been through the exact same pain, there is no help or healing that person can offer. While the need for sensitivity is certainly appreciated, these can be isolating mentalities. To be a human being is to know pain. It is far more helpful and healing to stand on the common ground that connects us than to look for reasons that others don’t understand. I’ve learned—the hard way—that both sorrow and celebration are best practiced not through the denial of the other but with an awareness that both exist at all times and that God is present and working in both places. To rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn is a willingness to bend into others’ realities, not pretend or perform. There is much joy to be had in stumbling through together. It’s better to hold one another than hide.
JB: On the other side of that, what does it look like for each of us to celebrate with others in our families and communities when we ourselves struggle with finding our own joy?
NZ: Since the release of What If It’s Wonderful?, I’ve heard from several readers who have confessed that it often feels easier to grieve with a hurting friend or family member than to join others’ joy, particularly when that person is celebrating a dream that steps on the toes of their own.
The story that challenged me on this subject is God’s conversation with Moses in Deuteronomy 3. Moses had been the Israelites’ leader through years of hardships and victories in the wilderness. Because of Moses’ disobedience earlier in that journey, God had told him that he would not be permitted to enter the promised land (Num 20:1–12). Now, Moses was so close to the land that he could spot the Israelites’ destination in the distance. He pleaded with God one more time to allow him to enter the land he had been leading God’s chosen people toward for decades. But God denied his request and told Moses that this was the end of the discussion (Deut 3:26–27).
The Bible doesn’t tell us how Moses felt in this moment, but we can assume that he was disappointed. What I personally find most challenging is what God says next. Not only did God give Moses a disappointing “no” and end the conversation, but God also instructed Moses to commission Joshua—to encourage and strengthen him for the dream that would not be possible for himself (v. 28). Moses wasn’t asked to merely accept that Joshua would lead the Israelites into a land that he would never see for himself. He was told to celebrate Joshua, pouring courage and strength into Joshua as his replacement.
The challenge I take from this is that celebrating others’ joy means not only finding a way to accept others’ joy, but to actively help prepare them for the dream that we wish was ours.
JB: This understanding of choosing joy and celebration strikes me as both so beautiful and so difficult. It’s absolutely one of those things that fall under the category of “easier said than done.” What word would you have for those enduring pain and loss, who may feel like they aren’t able to get this “right” the first, second, or even third time?
NZ: Celebration is not a performance. It’s important to recognize that God’s faithfulness is not dependent on our faith. His goodness is not a function of our goodness. The ultimate celebration is that hope and joy is a person: Jesus. And that hope came to us. We get to come to God with the feelings we actually have rather than trying to have the perfect feelings for God.
The reality is that life is not always wonderful. To be human is to know seasons of waiting, longing, loss,
and heartache. We cannot eradicate pain from our lives. But we are empowered to choose how we move through this pain.
As a Restoration Therapist, I believe there are three truths that can help us move through pain with peace and even joy, while acknowledging the weight of our circumstances. The first is that we are not alone. Most of us can name family members, friends, mentors, and others in our communities who tell us we are not alone. And as people of faith, we always have the comfort of the Holy Spirit. The second truth is that, while we are not in total control, we are empowered to make choices that can shape our journey through the pain. And finally, we don’t have to call the pain “good.” But if we have to walk through a circumstance we wouldn’t choose, what can we take with us that will serve us personally and relationally in the future? In other words, if we have to go through it, how can we grow through it? The circumstances may be difficult and painful, but we can celebrate redemption in the places in our lives that we may be tempted to write off as wrecked or ruined.
Jerome Blanco (MDiv ’16) is editor in chief of FULLER magazine and FULLER studio.
Nicole Zasowski (MSMFT ’11) is a licensed marriage and family therapist, speaker, and writer. In addition to maintaining a private practice, her professional work includes leading marriage intensives at The Hideaway Experience in Atlanta, Georgia, and facilitating support and enrichment groups at various churches. She is the author of From Lost to Found: Giving Up What You Think You Want For What Will Set You Free and, most recently, What If It’s Wonderful?: Release Your Fears, Choose Joy, and Find the Courage to Celebrate.
JEROME BLANCO: In your recent book, What If It’s Wonderful?, you write about the practice of celebration and choosing joy in all seasons, even amidst the most difficult circumstances. It’s a moving and vulnerable book, as you share about your own journey of seeking joy amidst a series of difficult miscarriages. Some might wonder how one can suggest celebration in such circumstances. How do you position joy amidst such grief and loss?
NICOLE ZASOWSKI: I think it’s important to recognize that joy is not a denial of pain. In my experience, celebration is often misunderstood. We think of celebration as either a reaction to good news or a reward for an accomplishment. But at its best, celebration is a rhythm. It’s a practice that helps us experience more joy in the life we are already living—in both seasons of pain and joy. Many of us
are waiting for a reason to celebrate. We see our peace
and joy sitting on the other side of a dream realized, a problem solved, or a goal achieved. But when we look at the Old Testament, we recognize that God’s people didn’t celebrate when it was convenient or when they felt they had a good enough reason to do so. Their celebration was a rhythm of remembering God’s goodness, not a reward for their own.
JB: That’s a powerful way of reframing it. How does this look on a practical level? In particular, what can celebration look like after loss? Especially amidst the enduring pain that follows in the day-to-day and year-to-year afterward?
NZ: We rarely talk about the fact that joy is the most vulnerable feeling we feel because, when we hold something, it is automatically accompanied by the possibility of loss. When we’ve experienced loss or trauma of any kind, it can feel safer not to hold joy than to hold something that might break. We often protect ourselves by relying on pessimism and cynicism, assuming we will take the sting out of the pain if we practice disappointment and rehearse disaster. But the research is clear that this habit does not lessen the pain should “the worst” happen.
The only way to tolerate the vulnerability of hope or joy is through the practice of thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is the expression of the gratitude we feel, and it doubles the joy we would experience had we simply felt grateful in our heart. Expressing thankfulness to people in our lives or to God in our prayers gives us courage to celebrate God’s good gifts.
Another helpful practice is the practice of savoring. Savoring helps us experience more joy in the life we are already living. From a spiritual perspective, it’s a practice that keeps us awake to God’s presence and movement in our lives. To practice savoring, you take a mental picture of one small moment from your day, and you ask your five traditional senses what they will remember about this moment. This practice helps your brain notice and celebrate a moment of delight in your life that it would ordinarily dismiss as unimportant.
JB: I’m curious what all this looks like in a wider context of family. I think particularly about your book and your experience, in which you write about losses that affected you but also your husband—although not in the exact same way, of course. I imagine many will relate to having to navigate trauma and joy while doing so in the close quarters of family relationships too. Especially since no one person experiences the same thing in the same way, what does it look like to practice celebration together?
NZ: As a marriage and family therapist who practices the Restoration Therapy model, I believe our pain is not only shaped by our current circumstances but also by the stories we bring to those circumstances. What this means is that two people can experience the exact same painful circumstance and feel completely different feelings because of the different wounds they were already carrying when they confronted this painful situation. A spouse or other family member’s pain may not seem logical to us. Or we might even be tempted to feel alone or take offense if another person’s emotional experience is different than our own. But understanding others’ stories helps us hold compassion for someone else’s emotional experience and helps us realize that, when it comes to feelings, there’s no “right or wrong.”
Understanding others’ stories also helps us have compassion for others’ reactions to their pain. As a Restoration Therapist, I believe there are four main ways that people cope with their pain: blame, shame, control, and escape. While there is an important difference between understanding and excusing, it’s important to see these behaviors as symptoms of pain in a way that leads us toward compassion and connection. And perhaps most importantly: it’s easy to focus and dream about how others should be different in order for us to feel better, but we cannot control others’ grief and growth. We are only empowered to be a good steward of our own.
JB: Going beyond the immediate and intimate sphere of your self and your family, I’m struck by how much your journey of practicing joy in your book is tied to others close to you—friends, mentors, a wider community. How does this community play a part in your own practice and journey of celebration, particularly when others may be enduring their own season of difficulty or going through their own season of celebration?
NZ: The call to us as Christians to “rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn” isn’t always obvious or easy in practice. It’s important to recognize that joy and pain don’t cancel each other and can stand side by side. As a marriage and family therapist, I find that many people who are hurting are hesitant to share for fear that they will dampen others’ joy. And those who are celebrating breakthrough in their lives are often afraid that their joy will rub salt in others’ wounds. Also, we are tempted to assume that unless someone has been through the exact same pain, there is no help or healing that person can offer. While the need for sensitivity is certainly appreciated, these can be isolating mentalities. To be a human being is to know pain. It is far more helpful and healing to stand on the common ground that connects us than to look for reasons that others don’t understand. I’ve learned—the hard way—that both sorrow and celebration are best practiced not through the denial of the other but with an awareness that both exist at all times and that God is present and working in both places. To rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn is a willingness to bend into others’ realities, not pretend or perform. There is much joy to be had in stumbling through together. It’s better to hold one another than hide.
JB: On the other side of that, what does it look like for each of us to celebrate with others in our families and communities when we ourselves struggle with finding our own joy?
NZ: Since the release of What If It’s Wonderful?, I’ve heard from several readers who have confessed that it often feels easier to grieve with a hurting friend or family member than to join others’ joy, particularly when that person is celebrating a dream that steps on the toes of their own.
The story that challenged me on this subject is God’s conversation with Moses in Deuteronomy 3. Moses had been the Israelites’ leader through years of hardships and victories in the wilderness. Because of Moses’ disobedience earlier in that journey, God had told him that he would not be permitted to enter the promised land (Num 20:1–12). Now, Moses was so close to the land that he could spot the Israelites’ destination in the distance. He pleaded with God one more time to allow him to enter the land he had been leading God’s chosen people toward for decades. But God denied his request and told Moses that this was the end of the discussion (Deut 3:26–27).
The Bible doesn’t tell us how Moses felt in this moment, but we can assume that he was disappointed. What I personally find most challenging is what God says next. Not only did God give Moses a disappointing “no” and end the conversation, but God also instructed Moses to commission Joshua—to encourage and strengthen him for the dream that would not be possible for himself (v. 28). Moses wasn’t asked to merely accept that Joshua would lead the Israelites into a land that he would never see for himself. He was told to celebrate Joshua, pouring courage and strength into Joshua as his replacement.
The challenge I take from this is that celebrating others’ joy means not only finding a way to accept others’ joy, but to actively help prepare them for the dream that we wish was ours.
JB: This understanding of choosing joy and celebration strikes me as both so beautiful and so difficult. It’s absolutely one of those things that fall under the category of “easier said than done.” What word would you have for those enduring pain and loss, who may feel like they aren’t able to get this “right” the first, second, or even third time?
NZ: Celebration is not a performance. It’s important to recognize that God’s faithfulness is not dependent on our faith. His goodness is not a function of our goodness. The ultimate celebration is that hope and joy is a person: Jesus. And that hope came to us. We get to come to God with the feelings we actually have rather than trying to have the perfect feelings for God.
The reality is that life is not always wonderful. To be human is to know seasons of waiting, longing, loss,
and heartache. We cannot eradicate pain from our lives. But we are empowered to choose how we move through this pain.
As a Restoration Therapist, I believe there are three truths that can help us move through pain with peace and even joy, while acknowledging the weight of our circumstances. The first is that we are not alone. Most of us can name family members, friends, mentors, and others in our communities who tell us we are not alone. And as people of faith, we always have the comfort of the Holy Spirit. The second truth is that, while we are not in total control, we are empowered to make choices that can shape our journey through the pain. And finally, we don’t have to call the pain “good.” But if we have to walk through a circumstance we wouldn’t choose, what can we take with us that will serve us personally and relationally in the future? In other words, if we have to go through it, how can we grow through it? The circumstances may be difficult and painful, but we can celebrate redemption in the places in our lives that we may be tempted to write off as wrecked or ruined.
Jerome Blanco (MDiv ’16) is editor in chief of FULLER magazine and FULLER studio.
Les (PhD ’90) and Leslie Parrott (MSMFT ’89) talk about the dynamics of healthy marriages and about their work of equipping couples with tools for their relationships to thrive.
