I'm so happy to be here!

The Ties That Bind: Stories of Love, Family, & the Legacy We Leave

The Valedictorian’s Story

I could go on for days about Mom and all she meant to me. I’d say the most indelible impression she made was in cultivating our family narrative and instilling in us all a sense that our own lives were unfolding stories, intertwined together, as part of a larger whole. We belonged. 

My entry into the family narrative began on April 20, 1967, in Waukegan, Illinois. A band of tornados made its way across the Midwest, touching down in Chicagoland just as I arrived. With word of tornadoes hitting our neighborhood and fearing the worst for my brothers and sisters, Dad raced home from the hospital. Story goes, he burst in to find all four kids huddled safe and sound in the basement—14-year-old brother Dave had grabbed his siblings, games and snacks, and rushed them all downstairs as tornado warnings sounded. (It’s amazing how many of big brother Dave’s stories go like that, Dave, always doing the right thing. Brother Doug’s stories … not so much.)

In a J.R.R. Martin sense, I was storm-born. Thankfully, the only local damage reported of my birth-storm was to some farm equipment that was … relocated. 

For my thinking, the greatest gift our parents gave us was their example. My brothers, sisters, and I, all learned what unconditional love was by experiencing it. We got to see what it looked like in their marriage, in parenting, and in family. Growing up, I looked forward to having the same love, marriage, and family Mom and Dad did. I think it was true for all five of us, as we all have, in turn, married and raised our families much like Mom and Dad did … each adding our own chapters to the larger family narrative, and are now watching the next generation of our family carrying the narrative forward.

[An attempt at the family tree as of this post: Mom and Dad have five children, three daughters-in-law and two sons-in-law (almost 200 years of combined marriage experience between us), twenty-four grandchildren, nineteen grand ‘in-laws’, forty-four great-grandchildren. And as I’m typing this, we’ve just learned a first great-great-grand is on the way.] 

The story lives on. Nothing would make Mom happier.

My kids know all the old growing-up-Shaw stories, and they know Shari’s and my stories, and we have our family’s growing-up stories. Today, our girls are all adding their family’s stories to the whole. Into the fourth generation now, it’s an amazing gift Mom left us. And I think we all have a sense that this is Mom’s legacy. When Mom died, our girls all got tattoos that read, “Love always, Grandma XOXO” in Mom’s handwriting. 

Phyllis’ legacy is our story.  

I could say a lot more about the importance of story in my life—I do make my living as a storyteller—but for now, I’ll get back to my story. 

Which brings us to Bruce Springsteen. 

To be continued … 

Jesus loves me, this I know...

How Depression, Anxiety, and Trauma Affect Entire Family Systems

One of the most dangerous misconceptions about mental health within certain religious communities is the idea that depression, anxiety, or trauma are strictly isolated, individual problems. We tend to view mental illness as a private spiritual battle taking place solely within one person’s mind or heart. We treat it like a broken bone—fix the individual, and the problem is solved.

But thirty years of living at the intersection of clinical science and theology has shown me that mental health challenges never operate in a vacuum. They are highly relational. When one member of a family system is suffering from the heavy weight of depression, anxiety, or a trauma response, the entire family system shifts to accommodate that pain. 

Think of a family like a hanging mobile over a child’s crib. If you pull on just one string, every single piece of the mobile begins to twist, shake, and lose its balance. That is exactly what happens within a household.

When depression enters a home, it can manifest as a heavy, thick cloud of silence. Communication slows to a crawl, and family members may withdraw into their own separate corners, experiencing a collective loneliness that is hard to articulate. When severe anxiety is present, the home environment can become highly hyper-vigilant. The nervous systems of everyone in the house become synchronized to a state of high alert, waiting for the next panic attack, the next sudden mood shift, or the next crisis. And when trauma is part of the story, past wounds can cast long, unpredictable shadows over everyday interactions, causing family members to react to one another out of defense rather than love. 

Sadly, when families look to their faith communities for help with these complex dynamics, they are too often met with judgment, misunderstanding, or rigid, unhelpful advice from religious leaders who simply don’t understand the clinical realities. They are told to have more family devotions or to correct behavioral issues, which only deepens the sense of shame and isolation. 

Jesus never operated that way. When He healed people, He almost always restored them back to their families and communities. He understood that our brokenness affects our relationships, and His healing is always systemic, compassionate, and deeply relational.

If your family system is currently feeling twisted or broken by the realities of mental illness, please know that there is zero judgment from the heart of God. You are not a failing Christian family; you are a family navigating a complex medical and emotional reality in a fallen world. 

No one is meant to walk this valley alone. In our daily book, Sanctuary Devotional, David Hoskins and I talk openly about the fact that mental health treatment, clinical recovery, and deep spiritual transformation are not only completely compatible, they are often inseparable. Healing doesn’t just mean fixing the person who has the diagnosis; it means bringing an honest, raw conversation into the entire home, creating a predictable rhythm of grace that allows everyone’s nervous system a safe place to settle. 

The Father’s hands are wide enough to hold your entire family. If your home feels fractured today, stop trying to force an artificial wholeness. Welcome Jesus into the middle of the mess, right into the muck and weeds of your family’s daily reality, and let Him begin to speak peace to the whole system. 

Darin Michael Shaw, MDiv, MA, is a collaborative writer, researcher, and veteran of over twenty years in pastoral ministry who has navigated his own seasons of brokenness to find a deeper identity as a beloved son of God. Along with David Hoskins, he is the co-author of the newly released morning and evening devotional, Sanctuary Devotional: A Mental Health Journey Towards Hope & Healing[Click here to order your copy of the Sanctuary Devotional on Amazon]