Spiritual Direction in My Life

It is with a sense of awe and gratitude that in two weeks I will join a gathering of former and current members of the Spiritual Directors International (SDI) Coordinating Council.  The meeting is part of a year-long strategic planning process.

Some people are already friends, such as the current Council members in this photo from our meeting last November.  We get to know each other well by working hard, sharing our personal life and spiritual stories, and embracing periods of contemplative silence.

In preparation for the upcoming meeting, we were all asked to write an essay about what spiritual guidance we are receiving to be a person of contemplation, a person of action, and a person who builds community.  Here is what I wrote:

A few years ago my spiritual director noted I was experiencing the longest dark night of anyone she had known.  Any sense of God was fleeting and nebulous.  My work at a national association had become poisonous to my emotional and spiritual health, and I focused on surviving. I saw no alternative, while yearning to be in ministry as a spiritual companion for more than a few people.

Like many middle managers, a corporate restructuring two years ago eliminated that work, and I was handed a three month severance package.  Within weeks I followed a newly emerging curiosity about being a hospice chaplain.  Doors quickly opened to my starting Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) as a volunteer chaplain.  Within the first two units of CPE, I moved through my grieving the loss of a career, while learning to be with those at the end of life.  My time with Kathy, my spiritual director, turned from the desert of the dark night to surprise and hope, mixed with anxiety and fear.  As Kathy wryly noted one time, God gave me what I wanted, though not the way I expected.

Weeks after losing my job I was also invited to join the SDI Coordinating Council, after being turned down just months earlier.  It was affirmation in the middle of desolation.  I began integrating two parts of my life that had been kept separate, applying over two decades of experience as an association manager to a new and very different organization, SDI, which has been central to my growth as a spiritual director.  

Taking a third unit of CPE last autumn I explored the differences and overlaps between the roles of chaplain and spiritual director.  Dan, my supervisor and I had numerous discussions about when and how my responses pointed to one or the other role.  Dan challenged me to stop asking questions because they led the other person to move into his or her head.  My image of how to be a spiritual director has been deepened and challenged.

After that third unit Dan invited me to apply for a CPE Chaplain Resident position for a 15 bed hospice facility.  My first response was “Yes!” followed by an immediate “Oh Shit!”  Taking that to my spiritual director, Kathy pointed out my resistance to the call, which I had been unwilling to admit.  I did apply and will start in August, earning money after two years using up savings.

Now I am able to be more fully available and vulnerable to those whom I companion.  I am aware of how much brokenness I experience with each person, each one seeking in her or his own way, to know how to be in service to the broken world around us.  The two years of deepening into my own vulnerability, pain, and brokenness allows me to offer a safer place for those I companion to express, name, and begin healing their own brokenness and pain.  I am full of gratitude to be God’s presence for them.

In Transition

Three months ago my life turned a corner. My position was eliminated in a corporate restructuring two months shy of twenty years of employment.  I was caught by surprise, even though I expected it.  Flags had been waving in warning for over a year.  Fifteen people, almost 15% of the organization, have lost their jobs in the last year and half.  All of us survivors had wondered who would be next, and when it might happen to one of us.  It is a terrible way to live, and traumatic when my turn came.

Following the advice of a friend, I negotiated for outplacement services.  Their webinars provided a structure for staying unstuck, by focusing on resume writing, using social media for job hunting, developing a personal marketing plan, and networking.  Like any good management consultant, they offer a proven plan with high success rates for those who follow the directions and do the work.  For two weeks I took the webinars, wrote up the documents as requested, organized a plan, and even sent out a resume.

Three days after sending that resume, I realized I had no interest in the position because something has changed over the last few years.  Me.  I had been working at making my job meaningful while knowing it no longer was.  The organizational values had changed from what had originally attracted me and held me there.  Fighting for services no longer considered important by the leaders left me tired and empty.

Fortunately, we were busy preparing for our wedding and I requested permission to put the outplacement process on hold for six weeks, which was approved. I stepped off of the job networking assembly line.

However, thinking about a new career direction doesn't go on vacation. Telling the story over and over to family and friends led to new understandings.  Sifting and sorting options continues in the back of my mind and while dreaming at night, .  Ideas are considered and fantasies explored.  Conversations with people shape future considerations.  The movement continues even while sitting in silence.

For years I have been struggling to integrate a sense of ministry with a secular career.  Ministry had been focused on treating people respectfully while making myself available, as a manager, supervisor, and co-worker.  But that was never enough.  Avocational activities like providing spiritual direction, teaching Christian education classes, and singing in choirs also left a feeling of incompleteness.  Maybe this is a time to seek to be in a more direct form of ministry?  Alternatively, that could be an illusion, with no possibility of ever satisfying this deep sense of spiritual hunger?

What is God asking me to consider?  Will I need let go of more than what has already been taken away?  

Men's Heart Work

During the recent Men’s Institute, after the recent Spiritual Directors International conference in Atlanta, a dozen men explored the contours of men’s hearts. It was clear from the early conversation that most in that hotel conference room were ready to take risks and move to deep levels.

In the initial exercise of Exercises of the Heart, we paired up tell each other “What makes your heart sing?” Then new pairs were formed for new questions such as “Describe a time when your heart was hurt or broken,” and “What hardens your heart?” As the questions were answered, we continually found common experiences and shared struggles with other men from around the U.S. and across the globe. Our differences in home town, church tradition, or age fell away.

I was somewhat surprised with the level of openness and vulnerability happening; men are stereotypically hesitant to talk about heart matters. Yet, considering the preceding three days with most programs designed by women for women, we all desired an alternative, masculine perspective and connection, and were willing to do what we needed to make those connections with each other

The next experience, the Grieving Heart, was a role play involving one man visiting another dying in a hospital bed, and required volunteers. While there was anxiety in the room and clear struggles about whether or not to take the chance, two pairs of men took the courageous step. In the first time through the play, we saw the love and respect one man has for his close friend and mentor. It made visible men’s hesitancy to thank and honor men who have given support and guidance. At least one man noted his intention to initiate that conversation with an elderly man before the opportunity was lost.

The second role play involved a man and his father, a relationship filled with conflicted experiences and emotions. The visible anger being expressed by the son in the role play was disturbing, yet was also understood by many men in the room. Discussing the role play, a number recognized how men’s grieving first shows itself in other emotions such as anger.

While the role plays illustrated two different responses to grief and death, the process dynamic illustrated the significance for men judging how safe the situation is before making a decision to commit and risk. When volunteers were requested, when each volunteer started playing his role, when talking about the experiences each person had in participating and watching, all of the men were constantly choosing when to risk or not, what to risk, and how to respond to another’s risk. We were assessing how safe the situation is before we were willing to speak out.

In the final section, How Do We Open Our Heart to Another, began with individuals pondering when we have opened our hearts to others, and the attendant fears and hopes. Then, in small groups, each person described and expanded upon his thoughts and listened to responses from the other men. The time together closed with the whole group beginning to apply what was learned to our lives and work as spiritual directors.

This time for individual reflection and looking towards next steps was deeply personal, so there is little that can be reported for the whole group.

The value of the time was not dependent upon the exercises done or questions asked, even if I think the three of us leaders did a great job of that. The value was in the gathering of men together, our ability to feel safe with each other, which allowed for a vulnerability rarely seen in groups including women with men. There is a bluntness and directness unique to a gathering of men, which is refreshing and also challenging.

I find myself inarticulate in describing what changed for me, but I left the event a different person.