I was a little late beginning my journey with the show “This Is Us.” My family had started watching it before I had, so I watched a few random episodes with them when I was home. At the beginning of the fall 2018 semester, I convinced my roommates to start watching it with me. Finding time for all four of us to sit down and watch it together was hard, especially since we wanted to give it our full attention and adequate emotional investment every time we watched. It took us the whole school year to finish the first season.
That summer while I was back at home, I convinced my friend Madi to binge watch the first season so that we could watch the second season together. It took us the whole summer to finish the second season.
When I was home again for break in January, Madi and I picked back up with season three. We were committed to finding times to be together to watch it—seldom watching only one episode at a time. We finished the season by the end of winter break.
Our plan was to watch season four when I came home for spring break. I blocked off spring break—no trips, no big plans. I was watching “This Is Us” with Madi—that is until COVID-19 swept in, wreaking havoc on society. Then (after several hours and multiple attempts), our spring break plans changed to sharing this experience virtually. And we made it work (for the most part).
I hadn’t started watching the show yet when it first aired and began to gain traction in pop culture. I was not paying attention when people began keeping up with it and posting about it on social media.
What that meant for me was that, by the time I was watching it, there wasn’t this whole community of people who were watching along at the same time or pace, so having my people to watch it with was important. I’m sure that some people have watched “This Is Us” alone and thoroughly enjoyed it, but I knew from the few episodes that I watched with my family that I didn’t want to watch this show alone. I wanted to be able to feel all the things and feel them deeply. And I wanted to share that experience with someone. If this show was going to make me cry, I’d rather not be crying in my bed alone.
So I found my people—first my roommates and then Madi. And we watched.
As I watched, I found that there are a lot of things I love about the show. I love the characters. I love that the characters deal with real problems. I love that the family is not perfect. I love the aesthetic and the soundtrack. I love that it’s not mindless background noise. I love that it allows me to feel and cry real tears. I love the story. I love the storytelling.
The story centers around a family—mom, dad and triplets. But their story isn’t told chronologically. In the same episode, you see scenes from their childhood and scenes from their adulthood. Time after time when I watch this show, my mind is blown by all of the connections that are made—how someone’s approach to a situation as an adult was shaped by an experience they had as a child or how conversations they are having as adults reflect conversations they had during childhood. As scenarios—often painful and difficult ones—are unfolding, I get a glimpse into why people are responding the way they are or connect a situation back to a sweet moment from that character’s childhood.
I don’t see that in my own life. I mean, I know that things from my past have made me who I am today, and I know that the things that I’m experiencing today affect who I will be in the future. But I don’t make these connections very easily in my day-to-day life. I don’t always recognize what hurt from my past (whether big or small) is causing tension in a relationship now, or what simple moment from my childhood gives me reason for hope and joy today.
Nevertheless, I have a story, and my story is made up of lots of little stories that are all intertwined together. And the people around me have stories too. The people I pass on the sidewalk or in the grocery store have stories. And I don’t know them all. I get a glimpse into the stories of my friends and families, but I don’t know all of anyone’s story. This humbles me. As my story intersects with someone else’s (whether for a short time or long), I want to be aware that every person, every story, is bigger than what I can see. So I give grace, trusting that the Lord uses every circumstance to shape people for His glory.
The events of each day are a part of the story—a part of the shaping. Today, it’s COVID-19. Maybe I can’t see how I have been prepared to navigate these uncertain days. Maybe I can’t see how these experiences are shaping me for what’s to come, but they are. It’s all a part of a bigger story. The story that I’m living today fits into the story of my life, which fits into the story of the world. I have been shaped for each day, and each day, I am being shaped. I want to see that in other people too.
Photo courtesy of Maggie Exum
