Rules for Interaction

I'm a student in a marriage and family therapy program that focuses on the self of the therapist. One of the primary thrusts of the program is differentiation of self. Over and over again we are invited to look at and attend to issues within ourselves, know ourselves, and grow as whole persons so that we might better serve our clients. I think it's brilliant.

These are the guidelines we follow in all of our course interactions:

·         Keep breathing and stay in the room.

·         Presume welcome and extend welcome.  Make a place for yourself and others in the conversation – in informal interaction, in small group discussion, and in large group interaction.

·         Refrain from fixing, saving, or setting straight others in the class.

·         When the interaction gets tricky, turn to inquiry rather than advocacy (wonder about something instead of defending something).  Pay attention to the distinction between dialogue (which begins with a question) and debate (which begins with an answer). Make sure your questions are real questions, not ones intended to make a point, demonstrate prior knowledge, or communicate a hidden agenda. 

·         Speak for yourself and own responsibility for your statements.

·         Think of silence as another member of the class.

·         Observe confidentiality, especially regarding material shared by other students.

How would the world look if we all committed to interacting with one another along these guidelines?

TMI? Nah...

Today is day 1 of charting my fertility signs using the fertility awareness method (FAM). Yes!

After nearly four years of preventing pregnancy with oral contraceptives, we're making a change that we hope is for the better. No, we're not trying to conceive. We're not there yet. Rather, we're trying to make decisions about how we live that are congruent with what we believe and profess. Our reasons for making this change are both health-related and theological, and we could not be more excited.

I'm thankful for this book, many supportive friends, and a fabulous women's health nurse practitioner in learning this approach to birth control and gynecological health. I look forward to learning all that I will!

Life is short. We ought not waste a day.

Today I'm reminded of the significance of this life. It can be so easily swept out from underneath us without warning. Last night a classmate from my growing up years lost a sudden and difficult battle with pneumonia. Pneumonia. It wasn't cancer. It wasn't a slow and predictable death, and the diagnosis shouldn't have warranted such a severe outcome. It was quick. It was unassuming. There was little time to respond as she quickly became progressively more ill. Despite doing whatever they could to keep this mid-20's woman alive, she passed away.

I hadn't seen Heidi in a few years, but my memories of her are fresh. I will remember her as a gentle and joy-filled person whose faith was unwavering. Her deepest commitment was to her Creator, and the image I see of her meeting her God is one that moves me to tears. I was recently at a funeral for a family member of my husband, Grandpa Joe. One man told a story of Joe's being elated when he learned of a friend's passing, excitedly responding with, "Good for him!" Today I'm overwhelmed with joy for Heidi as she looks into the face of God, but my heart is full of sorrow for her parents who are now without child, her extended family with whom she was so close, and her friends who walked with her through life and helped shape the person she became. What a significant loss for each one of these people. 

So much pales in significance compared to the meaning found in a life lost. Today I'm challenged to live a life worth remembering, to embrace today fully, and to be grateful for all that I've been given. It's cliche to say that life is short and that we ought not waste a day, but it truly is too short and we really ought not waste a day. Whether we live to be 2 days or 100 years, we're given but a brief moment of time, and each of those moments is pregnant with meaning and significance. How will we use the time we are given? 

Today I'm finding comfort in the arms of my God as I wrestle with this sudden and unexpected loss, but  I also choose joy and gratefulness. Heidi's story reminds me to be thankful for this life and the opportunities it brings. As long as my heart beats, I aim to live fully. May today be significant and meaningful in whatever ways it can be. 

We'll miss you, dear Heidi. Thank you for who you were and the ways you will live on in each of us. 

Vengeance and Retribution: Antonyms to Justice

“Continuing a cycle of violence through state-sanctioned actions does not bring justice but only creates a culture of death and retribution. As a pro-life Christian, I believe the execution of Troy Davis shows a failure of moral leadership by both our country and the state of Georgia. The doubt surrounding the case of Troy Davis has served as a wake-up call to many in this country that our justice system is flawed and should not hold the power of life and death over any person. Justice should restore and heal, not destroy.” — Sojourners CEO Jim Wallis 

I hurt for Troy Davis. I hurt for his family and friends. I don't know whether he was guilty or innocent, and I have no intentions to argue either way...that's not my place. What I am convinced of, however, is that our judicial system served him, and all others who have been executed by the state, an injustice.


In her November 5, 2008 open letter to President-elect Barack Obama, Alice Walker urged him not to take on other people's enemies: "Most damage that others do to us is out of fear, humiliation and pain. Those feelings occur in all of us, not just in those of us who profess a certain religious or racial devotion. We must learn actually not to have enemies, but only confused adversaries who are ourselves in disguise."

What if we began viewing the convicted in this way? What if we began to see, and treat, those who are convicted of such horrific crimes as murder as fearful, humiliated, and pain-stricken? What if we began to see those things in ourselves? Perhaps our compassion for them would deepen. Perhaps we could get over retributive "justice" and want healing and wholeness for them.

Capital punishment lacks hope. It is a way for the state and others to say to the convicted, "You are not human to us. We give up on you. You deserve this." This is not justice. Vengeance is not justice. Retribution is not justice. To think of justice in this way is elementary and avoidant. To inject a lethal cocktail into another human being and call that just is to strip that person if his or her humanity and worth. Ironically, victims often make the same claims about the convicted. How is capital punishment any more righteous?

Justice needs to be far more complex than that, and to maintain the worth, dignity, and humanity of all it needs to encompass a mature form of hope. Imagine a world where convicted persons entered therapy and began working on themselves. Imagine a world where convicted persons were understood as fearful, humiliated, and pain-stricken. Imagine a world where they were given the space to hope for forgiveness and a whole life. This doesn't mean they don't face consequences for their actions, but it also doesn't mean that we give up on them as people. Sounds tough, right? How could we ever hope for our perpetrators? How could we want good for them when they've brought so much pain to us? That's just the thing...viewing justice in a way that upholds the dignity and worth of the offender still allows us space to grieve and be angry, but it doesn't allow us to stay there. Capital punishment is an injustice to the convicted in that their lives are not valued, and it is an injustice to the victims because it does not challenge them to reconcile. True justice requires that we grow up, face the issues within ourselves, and hope for a better way of living for the offender. It requires that we love when we want to hate, hope when we want to give up, and let live when we want to kill.

Let us find a better way to relieve our hurt and anger, and let us value all life in such a way that hopes for tomorrow.

Vengeance is not justice. Retribution is not justice. Reconciliation is.

Thanks, Yogi.

It was just one of those mornings. You know...one of those up too early, workout was a wash, cold shower, knee cut by a razor, not a single outfit looks good, hair has a mind of its own, no eggs for breakfast, empty cupboards = almonds packed for lunch, I forgot I'm picking up a friend and I'm going to be late! kind of mornings. I had nothing major to complain about - sometimes we call these first world problems - but I was feeling rushed and somehow ill-prepared for the day. I just felt....off. As I rummaged through our tiny kitchen to find a morsel of something edible for lunch, I snatched my whistling tea kettle and poured the hot water into a mug. A quick shot of honey and a splash of milk later, I plopped my tea bag in and decided it would simply have to steep on my way to work. As I grabbed my things I rushed out the door to begin my day and as I was getting into my car I looked down at the tag on my tea bag and read There is nothing more precious than the self. 

Oh Yogi, you sure know how to stop me in my tracks.

I instantly felt this overwhelming sense of calm. My day took a turn, and I was reminded that in the midst of what felt chaotic, there was time to slow down and appreciate the beauty life offers if I am only willing to see it. And much of that beauty actually lies within me. My life is not about getting somewhere on time or accomplishing the day's many tasks. There is so much more to me and to my mission in this life. I am precious.

My heart smiled with every sip of tea that morning, and when I had consumed every last drop I took the tag and taped it to my computer monitor. Still today I sit at my desk and read my little reminder that there is nothing more precious than the self.

It was around February that I shared with some of my peers the challenges that have come with getting to know myself more over the past couple years. Perhaps one day I will share more about some of those things. For now it will suffice to say it hasn't always been easy. One of my dear friends asked how I've coped with the challenges, and after a moment to reflect on her question, I responded by saying, "I like myself. I like who I'm becoming."

That was a moment of differentiation for me. It was a significant one. In fact, I think it may have been the first time that I've openly declared my love for...me. It didn't feel narcissistic or grandiose, and I was not seeking affirmation or really any kind of attention; rather, it felt freeing and peaceful. As my heart smiled at my tea bag, my heart smiled at my words.

When we truly know ourselves, our strengths and our areas of growth, and in that we love ourselves, I think we're better able to be in relationship with others. I cannot offer what I do not have, and I can't take from others what they can't provide. It is my responsibility to care for me, to love me, to know me, and to grow me. Those ventures belong to no one else. I need to know where I end and others begin and take care of that which belongs to me. I'm seeing these changes in me and I'm excited about them. I do like myself. I do like who I'm becoming. There truly is nothing more precious than the self. There is truly nothing more precious than me.

Contentment

In college I decided that a day would not go by that I should be content. Should...what a loaded word. I began asking God to stir discontent in me so as not to become too comfortable and therefore let my faith become stagnant. You see, I was convinced that if I rested in the present, my faith would digress into a shlubbish and unintentional mess.

I entered my seminary journey with this idea in mind.  In my first spiritual formation class, I voiced my perspective and genuinely thought that if I ever felt content, I wasn't being intentional enough with my faith. Tsk tsk tsk, thou shall never be content.

The couple years I've been in seminary have completely shattered this "conviction." What began as an authentic desire to continue growing and deepening my understanding of God, myself, and this complicated world became a daunting, overwhelming, and exhausting task. My first year in seminary was full of "mirror" moments, when I was presented with a new perspective on my life and the shaping of it. I finally confronted myself in a way that not only allowed me to see, but go to, the places of my being that are dark, lonely, and broken. This work on the self is intentional in the program I am in, and while the pain sometimes run so deep, it has been a journey I will never regret.

I could reflect on so many things I have learned about myself over these past couple years, but one of the most important lessons I have learned is to trust the process. Over and over again our professors remind us of the importance of the process. Living in Minnesota, I have the privilege of experiencing the changes of seasons in all their glory...30 degrees below zero, and 100 degrees above with humidity that I can swim through (as is the case today). As I've learned to trust the process of knowing myself and God better, I've developed a new-found appreciation for winter. Winter is a time of hibernation and rest, and each year I can anticipate the life and excitement that surrounds the warming of spring. As I've learned to trust the process, I've also developed a new-found appreciation for contentment. There is a time for us to hibernate and rest in God's presence...in the present. I need not always look forward in such a way that ceases to reflect on the past and be present in the here and now. Instead, it's okay to...truly trust the process.

Today I am reminded again of the ways in which I can be content with God in the present. This need not mean that I am complacent, lazy, or otherwise unintentional - I can be content with God in the present and also be cognizant of the ways I can grow - but it's important for me to trust the pains, the winter, the process. It's okay to be content.

Exhausted.

Sigh. Heavy sigh. Heaviest sigh ever. I don't know that I have ever been so worn down from school. My brain cannot seem to function at a critical level, and I have two papers standing between me and a week of...well, no school.

When I first began my job, and a month later my master's program, I questioned whether two classes at a time would challenge me enough. In high school I was invincible. Seriously. Somehow I managed to juggle school, work, dance, family, boyfriend, friends, more dance, soccer, student government, orchestra, chamber orchestra, choir, chamber singers, piano lessons, even more dance, homework, and somewhere in there I ate and slept as well. Now I have a full-time job and am taking two classes at a time, and I am feeling exhausted. More than ever before.

So many of my classmates seem to be feeling the same way. I am not usually one to feel stressed or exhausted at the end of an academic term, but something got in the water at school because we all seem to have caught a bug. Whatever it is, I do know that the end is in sight. Though my final two papers (the dang things feel like mountains right now) are not due until Monday, but I leave for a work conference on Saturday. That leaves me a few short days to do the impossible, but my will it feel good to be done. And early at that.

Pressing on. Exhausted, but doing it nonetheless. On to another paper...

Peace,
SC