It's something about Christmas time that always makes me want to write. Maybe it's the fact that I have more time- exams are over, work has slowed down, vacation is eminent- or maybe it's the winding down of the year that tugs at my sleeve and draws me into a reflective and thoughtful mode of introspection- or, perhaps it's simply the high level of processed sugar inevitably in my system from December to January, the result of holiday goody bags, candy canes and hot chocolate circulating in every social circle. Whatever it is, about this time of year I find myself lost in thoughts, fantasizing about having them all written down- captured, processed, implemented- and tied with a bow.
My first year of counseling has left me swimming...which while exhausting, I'll admit is far better than drowning. With each week I feel my muscles growing stronger and at the same time, land- a solid foundation- something firm to put my feet on- feels immeasurably far away. Grounding is hard to achieve when thinking about every stroke I take keeps me in the hear and now and, for the moment, inhibits my ability to take a look at the bigger picture. One false move and I'm under the wave, no longer maintaining my forward momentum. Christmas feels like I've stumbled upon a small island. I can rest my arms, clear my head of the need to remember to keep paddling....and look back at the distance I've covered. It's far. Where did I even begin, which direction did I come from? I'm stronger. I'm tired but I'm less tired than I was before. If I'm lucky and I squint, maybe I'll even be able to make out traces of hard land ahead.
My ocean is injustice, suffering, pain, trauma, confusion, empathy, open-ended questions, comfort, sitting with the emotion, reflecting, pushing, cognitive restructuring, playing, scheduling, rolling with resistance, analyzing, structures, race, homelessness, shelters, violence, addiction, recovery, relapse, healing, being present.
Being present. There is something about being present. A professor of mine said that the gift of a therapist is being able to descend into another person's hell while keeping one foot in the land of hope and happiness. It's only there that we can be in relationship with someone in the purity of their pain. Though coming from the heart of secular helping profession mantra, that message sounds all too familiar.
Emmanuel, God with us. God who is present. God who came, God who descended not only to our world but into our hell. Triune God who maintained his fatherly sovereignty in the land of hope and healing while at the same time being fully present in the purity of our human pain.
In the words of Shane Claiborne, "Everything in our society teaches us to move away from suffering, to move out of neighborhoods where there is high crime, to move away from people who don't look like us. But the gospel calls us to something altogether different. We are to laugh at fear, to lean into suffering, to open ourselves to the stranger. Advent is the season when we remember that Jesus put on flesh and moved into the neighborhood." He dove into the ocean....I like to think that Jesus too swam. He too was tired and he too felt all together far from solid ground.
My hope comes from the fact that my savior swam in the same waters that we swim. He was born in a stable. He descended into our hell...and when he died he took up our inequities, rising again to settle things once and for all. He conquered death and all that comes with it and so for now... I can keep swimming, keep smiling, keep waiting, keep hoping.
My first year of counseling has left me swimming...which while exhausting, I'll admit is far better than drowning. With each week I feel my muscles growing stronger and at the same time, land- a solid foundation- something firm to put my feet on- feels immeasurably far away. Grounding is hard to achieve when thinking about every stroke I take keeps me in the hear and now and, for the moment, inhibits my ability to take a look at the bigger picture. One false move and I'm under the wave, no longer maintaining my forward momentum. Christmas feels like I've stumbled upon a small island. I can rest my arms, clear my head of the need to remember to keep paddling....and look back at the distance I've covered. It's far. Where did I even begin, which direction did I come from? I'm stronger. I'm tired but I'm less tired than I was before. If I'm lucky and I squint, maybe I'll even be able to make out traces of hard land ahead.
My ocean is injustice, suffering, pain, trauma, confusion, empathy, open-ended questions, comfort, sitting with the emotion, reflecting, pushing, cognitive restructuring, playing, scheduling, rolling with resistance, analyzing, structures, race, homelessness, shelters, violence, addiction, recovery, relapse, healing, being present.
Being present. There is something about being present. A professor of mine said that the gift of a therapist is being able to descend into another person's hell while keeping one foot in the land of hope and happiness. It's only there that we can be in relationship with someone in the purity of their pain. Though coming from the heart of secular helping profession mantra, that message sounds all too familiar.
Emmanuel, God with us. God who is present. God who came, God who descended not only to our world but into our hell. Triune God who maintained his fatherly sovereignty in the land of hope and healing while at the same time being fully present in the purity of our human pain.
In the words of Shane Claiborne, "Everything in our society teaches us to move away from suffering, to move out of neighborhoods where there is high crime, to move away from people who don't look like us. But the gospel calls us to something altogether different. We are to laugh at fear, to lean into suffering, to open ourselves to the stranger. Advent is the season when we remember that Jesus put on flesh and moved into the neighborhood." He dove into the ocean....I like to think that Jesus too swam. He too was tired and he too felt all together far from solid ground.
My hope comes from the fact that my savior swam in the same waters that we swim. He was born in a stable. He descended into our hell...and when he died he took up our inequities, rising again to settle things once and for all. He conquered death and all that comes with it and so for now... I can keep swimming, keep smiling, keep waiting, keep hoping.
1 comment:
Beautiful post, Courtney! capturing the true spirit of Christmas. A wonderful New Year of 2015 to you.
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