“If we do not transform our pain, we will always transmit it.”
-Father Richard Rohr
An awkward but true observation… I became the kind of person I was taught to judge, and my relationships with God, others, creation, and my self are better for it.
It wasn’t intentional. It didn’t happen overnight. It never felt like I chose it, but paradoxically, it did feel like freedom to know that no choice would separate me from Love.
I used to feel like I was walking along the ledge of a mountain, and any misstep would send me to my destruction. Now, it feels like the whole of my life and personhood are held in Love, and if I fall, I will be falling into Love.
The security of being loved, no matter what, allows me to take risks, be creative, dream bigger, and own my mistakes. When I feel like my worthiness is on the line, I’m too fragile to admit failures without being sent into a shame spiral. When everything is happening from a place of security in my belovedness, missteps become opportunities to learn and grow.
I’ve stopped feeling threatened by theological questions that challenge what I was taught. I’m drawn to learning from people with a wider range of lived experiences and religious beliefs. Instead of insiders and outsiders, I’m increasingly aware of the connectedness of all creation. Instead of feeling the pressure to save and fix myself and others, I feel invited into the holy, communal work of justice and co-creating beloved community.
I’m grateful.
And.
This process involved grief and loss.
It’s difficult to question or let go of beliefs that were fundamental to your identity and understanding of how the world works.
It’s hard to navigate the resulting changes in relationships and communities that can’t hold space for your growth.
It can feel scary to let go of certainty, especially if you were taught that the consequences could be judgment and ostracism in this life and eternal conscious torment in the next.
Grief is tough, but it feels real and alive and human, a more authentic and free way of being with what is. Even though it can feel isolating, grief is so very human that it connects us with every other human who experiences it.
When the old ways of connecting with God don’t seem to work anymore, we’re invited into something deeper and more authentic. Though it can be painful, this time of transition often marks a period when we are ripe for growth and transformation.
“…whatever occurred in your past that left you feeling stuck will never be more powerful than your inborn human capacity to keep developing. There is a drive wired into us toward growth, movement, and healing.”
—Holy Hurt by Dr. Hillary L. McBride
Poetry
Welcome to the In-Between
Welcome to the in-between.
I’d tell you to pull up a chair,
but the furniture here never seems to quite fit.
I’d say, “Make yourself comfortable,”
but we’d only laugh—
as though comfort were not the one
most pressing desire at the forefront of your mind.
God is here;
this I know.
But you don’t feel it at first.
It begins with discomfort.
Maybe a pebble lodged in your shoe,
or maybe an entire limb
severed from your body.
Whatever it is cannot be ignored.
People will talk to you
as though nothing has changed,
as though you’re the same person from before,
who had all her limbs and shoes without pebbles.
At first the shame is from the new identity
that you did not choose.
But then, as time passes,
the shame is about the way
you have responded to your wounds.
Welcome to the in-between—
the place for the hard and holy work of healing.
It doesn’t feel like healing at first,
this painful stripping away.
It feels mostly like surviving.
Sometimes you remember faintly
what it was like to to do something
—anything—other than “just” surviving.
Such grief over the memory of it
and the missing limb
and the loss of people who understood
and the pebble in your shoe
and the ill-fitting furniture.
Sometimes you long to just sink
into a comfy chair and rest.
Then
one day
when you are “just” surviving,
exerting the Herculean effort to breathe…
you will find that every breath you draw in,
and every exhale that goes out,
is the whisper of the name of
the God who seemed so distant.
And all this time,
They were as close to you
as your next breath.
The ground around you is littered
with all the not-you that has fallen away
and all there is in this moment
is Breath—
the Divine Breath through which
God blessed you with life.
Many times, it has felt more like a curse,
but that was Before,
when all the not-you
distracted you from the Breath.
Welcome to the in-between.
It won’t feel safe, exactly.
Safety is having your needs met,
and you have felt so needy.
It mostly doesn’t feel brave;
you’ve only done what you felt you had to do.
But it may begin to feel
a little
like
healing.
An Invitation: Spiritual Direction & Enneagram Work
I’m a trained spiritual director, teacher, and Enneagram professional. If this resonated with you and you’d like a nonjudgmental, compassionate space to share your honest thoughts, feelings, questions, and hopes for how you relate to God, self, and others, I’d love to schedule a free introductory Zoom call. We can take time to pause, listen deeply to what your soul is saying, and find clarity about where you are.
For more information on spiritual direction, Enneagram work, and/or to schedule a free introductory Zoom call, click here or email me.
Humaning is hard. You don’t have to do it alone.
Blessing
When everything seems to be changing, may you know, feel, and remember Love as the constant that holds you, always and unconditionally. May your healing reach back to former generations and forward to future ones. May you be a healing presence in a hurting world. May you encounter and notice beauty every day.
Be well, friend.
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