I’ve heard survivors of sexual abuse say “I can’t pray because I was abused by a priest. [If I try to pray,] I feel victimized all over again.”These words have stayed with me and inspired me to really look at what I call our inner voice and how certain obscurities may prevent its fluidity and its positive influence in our lives.
The inner voice contains the truth we hold about ourselves: “I’m good/bad,” “I’m concerned/not concerned,” “I’m favorable/unfavorable to my parents,” etc. It also contains the spiritual side to self. We often refer to our inner voice as coming from our inner sanctum. This is a place where we may pray, commune with God, contemplate, meditate, reflect on our passage in time and make moral sense of what has happened. Our inner voice may express our confession to God and others based on our reflections, our thoughts and discernment, which we may deem as our truth. (Confession, here, alludes to bearing witness to our truth, toour reality.)
I have been companioning others for almost 18 years.
SDI invited me to share the memory and meaning of the moment I felt I could say -- "I am a spiritual director." This followed the publication of a post on just that topic.
My first response was: I am a spiritual director when I meet people where they are and not where I or they want to be!
Our spiritual health is intrinsically tied to the well-being of others. It’s true, isn’t it? We feel the best (body, mind, heart and soul) when we know that those we love are doing well. When our dear ones are having difficulties, naturally their plight weighs upon us. If we are spiritually healthy and well adjusted, we’ll hope that they will be free of struggle. We hold this hope because we are self-aware, mindful, and in touch with just how difficult it is to be a human being.
“You are a spiritual director. You will always be a spiritual director, because it is now who you are.”
As I stepped over the threshold between the three-year spiritual direction practicum and the new reality of actually “being” a spiritual director, this was the gift my mentor gave me.
“It is now who you are.”
The words seemed to fall from the heavens and resonate and ripple in all directions, but especially deep inside. I still feel it in all of me – body, mind, heart, spirit, and soul.
Twenty-five years ago, when my son Joel was a toddler, I woke up one day with the knowledge, deep in my gut, that I did not have what it takes to parent a child with a disability. We didn’t have a diagnosis of autism yet. What we did know was that our youngest son wasn’t developing according to the timetable followed by his two older brothers, He had constant meltdowns and tantrums. He pulled hair. He had a miniscule attention span with a constant need for attention and redirection.
I opened my eyes that morning knowing there was no way, in my humanness, that I could do this right. I simply didn’t have the vast reserves of energy, creativity, wisdom, and insight needed to be the mother Joel’s needs required.
My day consists of running from pre-school drop off to prayer meetings, to preschool pickup, lunch prep, sermon prep ... you get the picture. Being a young clergymom, I fully understand being short on time. Finding time for self-care and reflection isn't easy. The same is true for most of my directees. I have five directees: one young mom, two young clergy moms, and two more clergy, all with at least one thing in common. We are all short on time.
I try to beas efficientas possible. I love that meme that says, “When that meeting could have been an email.” I know technology is not always the answer, but I also think we aren’t fully embracing technology to the extent that we can, especially as spiritual directors.
We all have faced rejection - the job we didn't get, the school we didn't get into, the relationship that ended when we wanted it to continue. We all have experienced the "no" that struck us a smarting blow because we wanted to hear "yes" so much.
This practice invites you to unpack the experience of rejection in a spiritual way.
Stepping into a walking labyrinth becomes a sacred experience when we connect it to our own personal journey, our walk in the desert, our meanderings through an unknown and sometimes bewildering wilderness. I recently walked the outdoor labyrinth at the Kanuga Conference and Retreat Center, in Hendersonville North Carolina, while attending Spiritual Direction training offered by the Haden Institute. The weather had been unusually cold. Snow and ice had taken its toll on the surface of the labyrinth, it was gritty, and stained, and not very warm and inviting.
I live on the California coast within a few blocks from the beach. One of my favorite pastimes to do after a storm blows through is to go beachcombing for sea glass. I tend to lose myself in this activity of slow walking on the wet sand when the tide is low. I look with intention along the shore for what shimmers in the sunlight. This afternoon there was a minus tide and the ocean’s waves have done all the work, churning up the rocks, so they lay like carefully placed pebbles tossed in a formation upon the shore.
