8.05.2013

a reflection from this past lenten season

Last spring, my pastor hubby tapped me to share a message in our church Lenten series about turning toward God. I just came across the reflection I shared, and somehow, it spoke to me again today. I will share it with you in hopes that it may also speak to you -- and that this will only encourage me to share a little more regularly.


Turning toward Peace

Some of you may be wondering what exactly the woman who is always surrounded by two busy, imaginative, loud children could possibly have to say to you about “peace”? Doesn't it seem I'm always yelling after one of them, or chasing one of them, or putting one of them in time out? Sometimes I do feel like it's all I do. It's not that they're bad kids, not in the least … but they also probably don't embody what one thinks of when they think of peace.

What do you think of? An early morning on the quiet dock of a lake? A walk in the woods with your dog? A mountaintop somewhere, where all you can hear is your own breath and heartbeat? All of these sound pretty awesome to me … they sound like an escape.

I know I certainly desire to escape sometimes. Especially on a day where there is not enough sleep, too much fighting, too many things demanding immediate attention, appointments that I'm running late for and car keys that are somehow missing... again. Sometimes I get into the mindset that escaping my home, my school, and my busy life is the only way to run away from chaos and into peace. Go on a silent retreat. Escape in a kayak on a placid lake. But how likely is that to happen??

Some of you may know that I am in school, working slowly but steadily on my Masters in Pastoral Counseling. I have learned so much about working with others – and about my own needs, hang-ups, and growing edges – while I have been in the program. But one of the things I heard my first semester has stuck with me and helped me really understand what it means to be a counselor: That I am to sit with someone and their pain, and to hold that person's pain for them until they are strong enough to take it back and hold it themselves.

Wow. What an honor... what a burden!

I am reminded of the Prayer of St. Francis, a song version which Tim & I actually used in our wedding service. “Make me a channel of your peace” the song begins, “where there is hatred, let me sow love. Where there is injury, pardon. Where there is doubt, faith. Where there is despair, hope. Where there is darkness, light. Where there is sadness, hope.”

Clients come to counseling because they are seeking clarity, solutions … peace. Listening to my clients speak, I have had first hand experience with how overwhelming disclosures of abuse, betrayal, and loss can be. How can I possibly hold onto this pain for someone when it is so engulfing and heartbreaking? I don't even want to touch it sometimes, or believe that people can be so taken advantage of or traumatized.

“Make me a channel of your peace...”

I hear this prayer, this song again, but I don't see an escape – an idyllic mountain, sandy beach, or a cabin. I see the chaos swirling around: busy, full of life, full of joy and pain. I hear voices, music, noise. I experience demands, questions, a busy mind that won't let me fall asleep. And yet, I see a clear and strong channel moving through the middle of this chaos. Where the water still moves - but smoothly. With strength. Direction. Purpose. This image is a god space where the sense of peace is stronger than the chaos.

“Make me a channel of your peace...”

I sometimes find myself whispering the first line of this prayer. It becomes my prayer when the chaos is surrounding me. It becomes my prayer in my heart when I feel like I could drown right there in the counseling room – in another person's painful life. It becomes my prayer when my own life feels too wild, too full, too much. It is a prayer I pray when life feels like it has no peace. It is a prayer I can even manage when I don't feel like I have the words to pray. The chaos may still churn, the demands may still exist, the children may still be tantruming and trying to kill each other … but in this channel, God is there. Sure and strong. Gentle and guiding. Whispering peace when the storms of life are raging.

“Make me a channel of your peace...”




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