These Are A Few of My Favorite Things

When I decided to begin the project of making spiritual direction more tangible, more practical, more, well, real, at least when it comes to this blog and my practice, I did so, I admit, with somewhat of a spirit of heaviness about me. Not because I didn’t want to embark on this journey—I did, and I do. But it felt, to be redundant, like a project. Something requiring hardhats and permits and probably a three-month delay so that the right paperwork could get filled out, and don’t forget the administrative fees.

What I’ve found in reading the questions that you’ve written in, and experiencing the concomitant* excitement in my own soul is that this isn’t a project but an adventure. And instead of strapping on the protective gear, I’m opening up the front door and heading out into the wild, wintery, wonderful world out there with you to explore together the practice and vocation that I love so much.

In that vein, I’m going to start with one of the questions that it gives me the most joy to answer. Lisa Tuttle asked, I would like to know, what gives you the deepest pleasure as a spiritual director?

Now, I could give you the fluffy, vague answer that I sometimes give at parties when someone asks what I like about being a director (Watching people grow.) But that’s not what you and I are about here, are we? We’re about specifics and the concrete and the running up the side of the mountain because it’s there and we can.

So, here goes. In no particular order (as they say in the reality shows):

•  The moment that an otherwise anxious or distracted directee embraces and relaxes into silence for the first time. This is especially difficult with another person, and when a directee enters into true silence, there is a holy hush that enters the room. It’s as if we are both wrapped in the warm, muffling blanket of God’s love. It’s amazing every time it happens, but it’s especially holy the first time.

• The honor of seeing a life being changed and shaped by God. This happens slowly, over time, but in unmistakeable ways: a person with anger problems slowly becomes more patient with others; a woman who puts little to no trust in God or others comes to realize that she now truly trusts God in the storms of life; a man who struggled to have any faith in God at all realizes that he is held by a Father who will never let him go and loves him beyond anything he will ever do or not do… the list goes on and on.

• Witnessing God break someone free from a sin that has entrapped them for most of their lives.

• The times when God floods me with His love for the person sitting beside me in the direction room. (At these moments I usually have to resist weeping in gratitude or flinging myself at the directee to hug them. Instead, I treasure these things in my heart.)

• Being alongside as Jesus reveals Himself to a person as they have never seen Him before.

• Watching someone experiment with type of prayer or a spiritual discipline that they never thought to try—and seeing it expand their relationship with God, their interior freedom and their love of life.

• The time of prayer before a directee arrives, when I hear a word, a phrase, a song, or a Scripture or I see an image that I know is His heart for this hour of holy time together. Hearing them say, “That was exactly what I needed to hear/see.”

• That time of prayer right before a directee arrives, and I hear nothing. The thrill of anticipation when I go into a session with nothing in my hands, wondering with awe, I wonder what You’re up to today, God!

… and those are just the things that I can think of off the top of my head. I suspect that this list is going to get longer and longer.

You don’t mind, do you?

* * *

* I love the word “concomitant”. I realize it is a $5 word, and using $5 words does not necessarily make things more accessible or understandable. However, in addition to being a spiritual director, I’m a word-geek. And when I have an opportunity to use a juicy, succulent, just-right-for-this-moment word, I will. My promise is that it will always be a compliment to the dish I’m serving, and I will tell you what’s in it. So…

con·com·i·tant           /kənˈkämitənt/