feels like home
I hope I never cease to be amazed by life, the wonderful complexity of people, and the perfect way that lives intersect and blend, even if only for a moment.
While spending time with one of my clients today, we somehow got into a conversation about "home." We were driving through the edge of the Blue Ridge mountains, listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd (her CD, believe it or not), and talking about all sorts of things. She is 14 and has been out of her mother's custody for 5 years. She has moved from group home to group home, and has had a slew of people in and out of her life.
Somehow tonight we got to talking about how - no matter what we're doing, or who we're with - we can catch a glimpse of the mountains and feel like we're safe, and like we're at home. She said it first, and as I processed it I realized how true that rings with me. No matter where I have lived, there has always been some part of me that hasn't felt totally at ease ... but I feel more comfortable and relaxed these days than I ever have before. The mountains somehow have a soothing, comforting effect on me that I can't explain. My favorite feeling these days is to drive toward home after a long day, and see the mountains ahead of me or enveloping me, and feeling like I'm heading to my refuge in the woods.
Things are changing and beginning to take shape for me to get more of that feeling, as I look toward moving to the REAL mountains out west. The feeling of serenity I have here is nothing, I know, compared to the sense of simultaneous peace and breathlessness that I experience when I gaze at the ruggedness of the Rockies. Little things have been surfacing lately that are pointing me again in that direction, and I'm not sure how much longer I can ignore this urging inside of me.
Work continues to provide an incredible sense of meaning and satisfaction, as I have the privilege of being deeply involved in the lives of some incredible kids. I have enjoyed so many successes in my work, and I get such a thrill from watching these kids' lives move forward toward a brighter future. I continue to be amazed and encouraged by the power and resiliency of the human spirit.
I have determined that I never want to become so skilled or experienced in what I do that I lose this sense of wonder and awe. I will do all that I can to ensure that my heart stays soft and my spirit stays attuned to the needs of these kids and their families.
A few weeks ago, as I sat in the lobby of a psychiatric facility and waited for a treatment team meeting to start, I was encouraged to discover that my heart still is tender, although I wish I hadn't seen what I did. I observed a mother dropping off her son to stay in the residential facility, and I watched her fight tears as she said goodbye to him. As the therapist walked him down the hall, I saw the mother turn her face to hide the tears that were freely flowing, and I looked down at my notebook to discover raised spots on the paper where my own tears were falling. I ended up speaking to the mother, both of us brushing away tears as we talked. I assured her that she was doing the right thing, and that this was the best way for her to love her son right now. She said that she felt like a terrible mom, and I just walked over to her and hugged her, eliciting stares from psychiatric staff and other lobby guests.
That experience reminded me that ultimately my work is about loving other people, and guiding them to make choices that - though they might be difficult - are the best possible options to take. That interaction with a tearful mother helped me to consider the other side of my clients' situations, because I don't often think about the parents whose rights have been terminated.
There are so many ideas floating around in my head, looking for an empty spot to land. But lately I have not been slowing down enough for many things to settle. There is so much to do, so many lives with whom to be involved ... I don't want to miss a minute of it. I am encouraged by the God I see lately in the eyes of my clients. I am thrilled to experience God's love leading me to go hug a stranger struck speechless by sadness and ashamed of her tears.
I feel more at home than ever, and yet the mountains remind me that so much lies just past the horizon ... I am breathless in anticipation of all the goodness that is ahead of me.
the strength of weakness
It was a Jeep-driving, star-gazing, enough of a wonderful chill to have the heat blowing on my feet kind of day (and night). I started the day with my traditional Saturday fare of pancakes, and indulged in some lazy morning time in my pj's. Then I went to see one of my clients, and took him for his very first Jeep ride, an occasion celebrated by a trip to (where else?) McDonald's. So much for working with him on his goal of eating healthy.
This evening I went to church. It is very telling and encouraging to me that I feel a sense of rest and relief when I walk through the doors of that building. The message tonight was good, although I couldn't tell you exactly what it was about. I latched on to one particular thing that Pastor Josiah said, and I mulled it over in my mind for the rest of the service.
He told a story of the very first church that he
pastored, and the prideful, over-confident, fresh-from-seminary graduate that he was. Shortly after he moved to town and took lead of the church, he found himself in a situation with a member of the community in which he had absolutely no idea of what to do. He thought seminary had prepared him well, but as he approached this situation in a helping capacity he realized that he had no knowledge or experience on which to rely. He found himself praying to God - a very simple, humble prayer in which he kept repeating the words, "Help, God. Please help." He was so overwhelmed by the greatness of the need, and his inability to meet it, that he was unable to formulate any other words. His story ended on a positive note. God must have heard his plea and He
did help.
The simplicity of that prayer lingered in my mind for the rest of the service and the entire ride home through the dark mountains. Part of the way home, I pulled off the road and parked along the river. I found a big rock, laid down, and gazed up at the stars, and contemplated the ingenuity of that four word prayer. I reflected on my own life, and realized that so many times I try to do things on my own when I have no idea of what I'm doing, and no right to try to pretend that I know anything. I see it my work, in relationships, and especially in my walk with God.
It's so silly, really. I think sometimes I try to impress God with my deep thoughts or complex
ponderings. As if the Creator of my Soul can't see through the smartly-fashioned
soliloquy to the desperate, pleading cry for help. I do the same thing with other people. I feel a need to have it all "together." I take
pride in being independent and in getting things done, and I only ask for help as an absolute last resort. In doing this, I am doing a great disservice - to others, but even more to myself. I am missing out on the joy of watching and being a part of God doing something incredible, maybe even through me. And I am missing out on the feeling of fellowship that comes by allowing someone else to come alongside me and help me.
This all seems pretty basic, right? And it is all a lesson that I would easily share with my clients, when giving them guidance on their own lives and things that they can do. And yet, I continue to push myself and try to figure things out on my own, while the whole time God is watching and waiting for me to just ask Him to do what He longs to do: love me by helping me.
Tonight my prayer looks something like this, "Help, God. Please help. Help me push these thoughts away for another day, so that I can get some sleep tonight."
breathing deep
It's almost fall, and I'm starting to feel that restless, wistful stirring in my spirit. I am looking forward to losing myself in the changing colors of the mountains around me this year. I approach this new season with the breathless anticipation for which I have mixed feelings. There is the passing emotion of excitement, but also the realistic side of me that knows the season and all its glories will come and go, and I will soon find myself in the coolness of winter again.
It's amazing how much impact a change in environment can have. Things feel different to me as I sit on my back deck and listen to the overpowering sounds of cicadas celebrating the night. The air demands that I breathe it a bit deeper, and the stars in the sky seem to tease me in an effort to convince me to stay up and wander beneath their light all night long.
I am taking a break from classes, just in time for the fall. I am looking forward to having more time to hike up mountains, wade through streams, read good books, lounge on the deck with my guitar, and engage in lots and lots of good conversations. I am also looking forward to some great concerts. Lately it seems that every where I turn I bump into someone with great taste in music, and I am being reminded of how much I used to love to sit in a coffee shop or bar or park, and allow myself to be wooed as talented musicians spilled their souls to a sparse but intense audience. This fall will involve more of that magical experience known as live music.
I will also be spending some time up in my old stompin' grounds in NY, as there is a wedding in the works. I saw the whole fam this past weekend, and was amazed anew at the life, youth, and beauty of my nieces ... and swept away in awe at the grace, wisdom, and strength of my 84-year-old grandmother. I returned to my home with fresh vegetables from the garden and lots of good memories of the almost-fall climate in NY.
I need to go spend some more time under the stars, but I will close this post with lyrics from a song written by quite possibly my most favorite lyricist, Bill Mallonee. If he were single, younger, and a little bit more normal I think I would absolutely be in love with him.Songwriter (Numb)
yeah i wish that i could change things
rearrange the pieces and the bits resistant though they are
the ones that fell right through the cracks
the stuff left over from exploding stars
obvious from the back row
to everyone but me
it's always sad to see what you become
when you're looking after number oneyeah i wish that i could change things
testify to some deliverance
yeah i'd talk show it right into the ground
like some salvation experience
yeah i wish that i could change things
and say some new words for all these feelings that i felt
we all wanna change things
but can you change yourself
i tried to make you like me with some words and a six-string
'cause i wanted you to like me well some folks even spilled some ink
and even when it got cold i hardly knew i'd died
i guess you go a little numb and then empty on the inside
you're rarely remembered or thought well of
for when your game was its strongest
and words you wish your head didn't say
are the ones their hearts will hold onto the longest
and the promises you should have kept
you're one million versions of a stumbling-12-steps
and that never seems to be enough
when your flesh and blood keeps screwing up
i tried to make you like me with some words and a six-string
it was really just a cry of sorts and some fancy conjuring
and even when it got cold well i hardly knew i'd died
i guess you go a little numb before going empty on the inside
in spite of all my ties i was driftin'
and now the kids they are full grown
and just because you got an address
doesn't mean you've got a home
they say that it's a cruel world
some cite it as a sad fact
and they say God He must not give a damn.
and God says well I don't know about that.
'cause i keep hearing whispers
saying everything's gonna be alright
you put some goodness back in and you take your stand
and you hold onto to Him for dear life
i tried to make you like me with some words and a six-string
i was starving for a deeper love my God what shallow reasoning
and even when it got cold i hardly knew i'd died
i guess you go a little numb 'fore going empty on the inside
going empty on the inside
