healing

God Is There and Here, Reminding Us: Look At My Eyes

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My drive home this evening on the DC beltway turned out to be the most holy moment in my day–which is nothing short of a miracle if you know anything of DC traffic. I found myself transfixed as a hush fell over my car; both kids fell asleep almost on-command.Early in the drive, I put on Christmas music and asked the kids (ok, more like ordered them) to be quiet– we’d had a very busy day and needed to be quiet. We spent the morning opening Christmas gifts, delivered early by Santa, followed by a last minute decision to join friends for their Christmas pageant in the afternoon. The kids played roles in an informal telling of the Christmas story. As I listened to my favorite Christmas CD, my mind wandered. When I emerged from my peaceful stupor, I realized that I didn’t feel rushed or irritated by the traffic. I hadn’t changed lanes; I hadn’t felt the usual agitation that one can feel when, on none other than a Saturday night, there are no breaks from traffic in DC.

While at my friend’s church this afternoon, more than once I scooped my 4-year-old son up in my arms to step away from the commotion. I whispered in his ear a warning, seeing that his capacity to take much more in without going just a wee bit berserk was waning. In those moments when I don’t feel like I’m heard, much less listened to, I employ the four words I learned in my Montessori camp counseling experience, “look at my eyes.”

Under the influence of God’s peace, I drove home this evening thinking about how easy it is to be sucked into the vortex of meaningless suffering, of the endless why, and the incomprehensible evil that befalls so many on this earth. We ask why; we question; we doubt; yet there is God, urging us . . . . look at my eyes.

Life is sure to disappoint. We are sure to disappoint others. We can so easily be consumed by the hurt we feel at the ignorance of someone’s words or mired in self doubt and self pity. It’s hard to consider the past year without being reminded of all the places that God did not seem to show up. Into those places, in the face of bewildering circumstances, I know no other words to speak than, “Come, Lord, Jesus.”

Yet, God is there–and here–reminding us . . .

Look at my eyes.

In whose eyes do you see peace? Whose heart embodies hope in your life? Whom do you know is a reflection of love and joy?

Look there.

And in those moments when we are bewildered by the inevitable hardships that we both see and experience, keep looking there, for those are the eyes of God.

 

**Originally posted in December, 2013**

Finding Center: Four Questions to Ask Yourself When the “Worst” Happens

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A few years ago, I was cruising along in life when, out of what felt like nowhere, everything changed. My perception of the life I’d lived was put into question as I faced the abrupt end to my marriage. Every plan and idea I had about the future was placed on hold as I grappled with the loss of my spouse and an an uncertain future. One of my favorite sayings is that hindsight is 20/20. I now understand and can accept things that at the time I fought against. I also can see that there was a lot I did, not always consciously, that laid the framework for healing and growth during an unexpected divorce which could have completely derailed me.

When we’re faced with traumatizing circumstances or an unexpected turn, it’s easy to react instead of respond. When we react, we often do so out of the heightened emotional state we’re in. We may say or do things we regret because we haven’t stopped to consider what our options are. Instead, I believe that our greatest strength in the midst of chaos is in the power to choose and to do so wisely. Let me add that wisdom is not always a ready resource when the worst happens. As I reflect on how I made it through that dark time in my life, much of what I  held on to was passed on to me by friends or counselors who themselves were not embroiled in my own unfolding saga. Their rootedness anchored me. Here are a few key questions that we all can ask when all may seem lost, a few of them inspired by some amazing people who walked beside me.

Who do I want to be?

In the middle of what felt like  impossible circumstances, I decided early on to see a therapist. She encouraged me to take good care of myself, saying, “your children will be well if you are well.” Whether it’s children or other important relationships, it’s true. All of them will suffer if you are not well yourself. I had to consider who I wanted to be and how I was going to handle the situation that I found myself in. At the time, I probably could not have articulated who I wanted to be, but I knew that I still wanted to enjoy life. I took my kids to the zoo, the park, the beach. In the face of deep internal agony, I still got out of bed. I cooked dinner. I went to the gym. Each and every ounce of self-care had a cumulative effect that kept me moving towards the next thing, even if it was just walking across the room. I wanted to be someone who could live well, even if my course was being dramatically altered.

I came to understand who I wanted to be by also recognizing who I wasn’t going to be. Whatever battles you choose to fight will be a withdrawal from your emotional reserves, so choose wisely. It’s important to also consider how you fight. A dear friend passed on some advice she’d been given during a difficult period in her own life. She said, “do no more harm; don’t add to your regrets; always take the high road.” The high road doesn’t always feel good. It means not necessarily getting in the last word. It means choosing grace over revenge. Taking the high road means saying and doing things that don’t keep you up at night rehashing old scenes and wishing you’d done things differently. It also means forgiving yourself when you blew it all together because, after all, choosing the high road is impossible to do perfectly.

What do I believe?

I am of the Christian variety. While there are many different tents in this camp, I am grateful to be in the it’s-ok-if-you-aren’t perfect one. I let God know I was angry. With the windows tightly rolled up, I screamed and let God have it. My marriage as I saw it had been untouchable; my expectations that I could preserve it at all cost were perhaps naïve. Even still, I was honest with God about how I felt about what was happening in my life. In the years since the hardest turns, I’ve often prayed simple, sometimes indiscernible prayers. “Set my feet on a firm path; show me the way. Help.”

Knowing what you believe, though, especially if you don’t profess a faith isn’t about finding a religion necessarily but, rather, about knowing what your internal order is. We each live by a set of values, internally held but externally lived out. What, where, how, and with whom you spend your time says a lot about what you think is important. Sometimes those things are helpful, especially during a time of hardship. If not, then it may be time to identify some values that offer a better way to deal with what you’re going through and ultimately put on the horizon a glimpse of the life you want to live in the future.

What can I control?

When I was going through my divorce, I felt like everything was being taken away. I could easily have fallen victim to my circumstances and, as I mentioned earlier, reacted from angst. Instead, I made a list of what I could control when everything else felt out of control. I could still try to make my kids laugh. I could still create beauty. I could spend time with friends. I could hold on to hope and believe there was something beautiful waiting on the other side of my painful situation.

I could control my attitude and each choice that I made. Sometimes I chose to drive 30 minutes just to play the piano in an empty chapel where my friend was a pastor. Other times I chose to make lasagna which seemed fancy when cooking for just me and two small children who would have been just as happy with hot dogs for the hundredth night in a row. Each choice was an investment in restoring my sense of empowerment, no matter how small and seemingly insignificant.

Who do I love? And who loves me back?

The trauma of my divorce left me vulnerable, foggy-headed, and facing a mountain of decisions that I was ill-prepared for. While some friends marveled at my strength, I now can say with confidence that I am still standing because of theirs. When the “worst” happens, draw close to the people who have a track record in your life; lean into them.

A friend I’ve known since the fifth grade spent hours with me on the other end of a telephone line, several states away on the first evening I was alone. Another sent a box of fruit and earrings, small tokens of love from the other side of the country. Friends cooked for me, painted with me, sipped wine with me and held me through the most difficult of days. When we’re faced with the worst and lean into the ones we love, we will know who loves us back because they are still there when the sun comes up again.

Forty Days Til’ Forty, Day 32

Again, I am reminded of the willfulness of healing. Time does not alone ease all wounds. In time, with time, our deepest wounds are met with the salve of God’s love and in the meaning we create out of the madness of life. Time is not responsible for our healing. With God’s help, we are. Time is our greatest ally. There is a willfulness as soul meets soil to push with all endurance and break through the dirt. Healing is messy and non-linear and often feels like a web of conflicting emotions and confusing thoughts. But we must define the things for which we hope, or the pushing, the enduring, will feel futile and without aim.

S. C. Burke