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Reflection: The Open Door

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Yesterday, I talked about Elsa from Frozen.

Today I want to talk about Anna.

I identify with Anna. She is the little sister. I don’t know anything about being the older sibling. I have lived all my life as the younger one. So that is what I will speak about today.

Being the second child comes with burden and blessing. Your parents practiced on their first kid. Now they know some things. They may be less strict. They may also be less interested. There are 10,000 photos chronicling the childhood of your older sibling, and 81 of you.

And it’s nothing personal. By the time your parents get to you, they are probably tired. They are desperately in need of a nap.

You enter a world occupied by a headliner who may resent your arrival. They owned the kid scene. They set the mold. And now, here you are, with your copycat, derivative self, trying to horn in on their stage time.

Elsa and Anna’s relationship, though, is unique. Elsa has superpowers that inspire her family to isolate her from her sister and hide her away from the world.

And then they die at sea.

And three years later comes Elsa’s coronation as queen, which is a very different day for the two of them

On Coronation Day, Anna is bursting with excitement at the opportunity to be in community. She has lived a life of isolation without explanation. She is separated from her sister and cut off from the world.

And now, while Elsa worries that she has to hide in public, only for today, Anna rejoices that she gets to be seen in public, only for today.

Anna sees herself as an afterthought. She introduces herself as “the other princess” when placed next to her sister at the coronation. She doesn’t think she’s supposed to be there.

And that’s when she runs into Hans, a Prince from the neighboring kingdom of Weselton, who wins her over with his charm, and apparent emotional sensitivity. As the youngest of 13 brothers, he seems able to relate to her perfectly. She falls head over heels in love, and in the song “Love is an Open Door”, they express the sensation that their whole life has been a journey of resistance and isolation, with “a series of doors in (their) face.” They see their relationship as opening them to possibility, connection, and belonging, and after one minute and forty eight seconds of singing together, he proposes, and she says yes.

And that’s where the trouble starts.

Falling in love is great. It’s spiritual, magical, and chemical, a flood of dopamine, norepinephrine and oxytocin that make us feel alive, and safe, and able to conquer the world.

Falling in love sweeps us off our feet. And because it does, we often look to relationships to fix the pain that comes from walking alone. We expect it to banish depression and anxiety. We expect it to eliminate anger. We hope it will heal our trauma.

And that’s not how healing works.

But taking the love drug can make us susceptible to deception. We welcome vampires because they are charistmatic and cute. Eventually, we find out that they are also carnivores. And we’re on the menu.

And this brings new meaning to the idea that love is an open door. Because the phony, deceptive love, the chemical butterflies which we have been raised to see as reliable metrics of authentic connection are an open door to chaos. That kind of love is narcotic. And our addiction to it leaves us making bad decisions, like getting engaged in two minutes.

True love is sacrifice. It’s prioritizing another person over yourself. It involves patience, kindness, humility, honor, and grace. Love is tenacious, protective, and trusting.

Butterflies fly away.

Prince Hans’s villain turn comes after Elsa accidentally strikes her in the chest with magic in a panicked moment.

At this point, Anna, seeks the only cure for an icy heart. Only an act of true love can save her. A true loves kiss. And right before he kisses her, he says “Oh, Anna. If only there was someone out there, who loved you.”

He is a phony. He schemed so he could get power. He was 13th in line for the throne of his own country, so he knew that he’d have to marry into the throne.

He says:

"As heir, Elsa was preferable, but no-one was getting anywhere with her, but you, you were so desperate for love you were willing to marry me just like that. I’d figured after we married, I’d have to stage a little accident for Elsa, but then she doomed herself, and you were dumb enough to go after her. All that’s left now is to kill Elsa and bring back summer.

Prince Hans is not Prince Charming. He’s your eighth grade boyfriend. He’s the girl in college you thought you could trust. He’s a series of parasitic, predatory spirits that prey on our hunger for connection, and impaired reasoning for the purpose of devouring us. Maybe he wants the throne. Maybe he wants your adulation. Maybe he wants your vote. Maybe he just wants you for a few weeks until he gets bored.

Frozen’s ultimate statement on love is redemptive and complete. But Hans ain’t it. And neither are any of the folks I just mentioned above.

If you are in that relationship, I pray you get out.

If Hans is your type, I pray you would find a new one.

I pray your family wounds do not become a gateway to self-harm.

I pray you find the love you are missing.

And I pray that you give it.

(Photo Credit: Kei Scampa)

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