The Comfort of My Chair

Today, there was a great sermon preached at Grace by our favorite pastor, David Bell.  David has the way of taking the Word and bringing so much practical sense to my life when I seem to need it most.  The last few weeks I have been in constant prayer about work.  I have felt beyond overwhelmed with the severity of mental illness at my school.  Kids as young as first and second grade wanting to kill themselves on a daily basis, self injury, and endless trauma of all kinds normally seems to suck the life out of me.  I've used the analogy that if my heart and energy were a pitcher of water, I would bone dry by Wednesday, and not really always present by the end of the work week.  I never feel filled up when I return on Monday.  And lately, the deficit has taken it's toll.

In church, David preached about James 2 and how our faith without deeds is life less.  Afterward there was a song the worship pastor wrote the used the metaphor of someone sitting in their comfortable house in a big chair looking out their window into a storm and feeling God's call to get out of their comfort and help those in the storm of life.  As one can imagine, I instantly had my hands up in praise thinking about the fact that each day that I sip my coffee with my fluffy dog and wonderful husband in my comfortable home, I am preparing myself for another day in the storm.  I am preparing my heart, mind, and soul to experience sadness, deprivation, and trauma like I have never known it in my life.

See today, I continued to sit and ponder on how and why God has blessed me to be one of the few who have a "comfortable home out of the storms of life".  And lately, I just want to shut the blinds in my windows and ignore everything there is outside of this comfortable place.  There are days of the storm that rock me so hard to my core, that I want to hide under my comfortable chair and pretend like God never blessed me so much.  I think lately, I have felt like I "should" help these kids, and I "should" feel happy about it.  Today, I realized that there will be a lot of sorrow standing out in a storm all day.  There is a purpose for this home, to come back and regain my sense of self.

Today, as I thought about my comfortable house, I thought about the passage about building a house upon the rock (Matthew 7:24 Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock.).  So many of my families do not know Jesus, and their lives are about survival.  This even could be said for many of my friends, drinking and jumping from relationship and relationship day to day to find joy, peace, or purpose.  Should my role not be only to stand with the broken in the sand but to actually help them to find a rock of foundation and a home of comfort of their own?  I can choose to stand every day in the storm with them, or I can be a light to the peace and joy that comes from knowing Jesus.  So often, I almost feel ashamed, nervous, or embarrassed as I stand with my families when I think about sharing my faith.  But it's my faith that got me to a place where I feel compelled to serve out of love every day.  It's my faith that has formed me to think less about myself and more for others.  It's my faith that has some how tied my messy life together and made it the blessing that it is.

I realized, yet again, what a beautiful thing it is to have a relationship with Christ today.  I realized just how much I need Him, the church family, and the hope that comes with knowing that some day we will all find the comfort of our "home".  Until then, I suppose to I will rest a bit in that comfortable chair and then suit up in my rain gear for another storm.  I think whether it be in the charter school, the play therapy room of a private practice, or in my own family, there will always be the storms of life.  I just had to recognize that the purpose of my life isn't to sit and observe.  I will have to just enjoy those quiet moment in the comfort of my chair as they are so very necessary to make it through the storms of this life.  So as the last few minutes of my weekend tick away, I play to go spend it with the people in my life who are my comfort, my peace, and my blessing.  Tomorrow will be another day in the storm, but tonight is where I fill myself up to send my self out tomorrow...  

Crawling

Sometimes when I am really struggling through the day, a song comes on and motivates me.  I guess that's the amazing thing about music.  Today, as I am about to pass out at 10 pm yet again because of a long and stressful day, I was passing through an old I-Pod playlist to come across Superchick's Crawling.  I realized, I am probably not the only one crawling through the day.  Maybe this song can help remind another person that God crawls through the messiness of life with us.  So enjoy Superchick :)  I just need to sing and worship through the days when it feels like I am crawling.  Maybe my kids see me as one who crawls with them, too.  Here's to hoping that the smallest thing can make a difference....

How long will this take?
How much can I go through?
My heart, my soul aches
I don't know what to do
I bend but don't break
And somehow I'll get through
'cause I have you

And if I have to crawl
Will you crawl too
I stumble and I fall
Carry me through
The wonder of it all
Is you
See me through

Oh Lord, where are you?
Do not forget me here
I cry in silence
Can you not see my tears?
When all have left me
And hope has disappeared
You find me here

And when I have to crawl
Will you crawl too
I stumble and I fall
Carry me through
The wonder of it all
Is you
See me through

When everything I was is lost
I have forgot where you have not
When I am lost you have not lost me(2x's)

You have not lost me

And if I have to crawl
Will you crawl too
I stumble and I fall
Carry me through
The wonder of it all
Is you
See me through

Another Hill to Climb

It's been over four months since we got married, and married life is much easier than I had planned.  I figured the first year of our marriage we would be having crazy little fights about the dishwasher and trying to get our budget in line.  I thought that all of the stuff I had been working for in my life would have fallen into place, and it would be what was in our house that was causing trouble.  Luckily, but ironically, it's more of the opposite.  I am back to realizing that the severely mentally ill population is just not the one for me.  I have been revisiting my journals, blogs, and essays only to find that I know I am not where I want to be professionally.

It hasn't helped that systemically where I am is a bit, well, unorganized, but I am finding myself unchallenged in someways and over challenged in others.  It's funny that the mental health field can be so stretching and diverse.  People sometimes say, "well, you're helping people", but sometimes being a therapist is more than just encouraging someone.  More times than not, I think therapy is about making changes and finding hope.  In small group for church, a new friend asked, "isn't it weird how community mental health is nothing like what you pictured you would do in school?"  The question stuck with me throughout the evening.  Intake paperwork, OTR's for more sessions, assessments, team meetings, and car trips to the doctor were never on my radar.  The time I would spend writing about a person rather than working with them almost seems to make the time we spend together so brief and less meaningful.

What I had pictured was....  I remember what it felt like to have a play therapy room where children came with their parents.  I remember engaged families who wanted to see change.  They showed for most appointments, had some insight to their roles, and were committed to the process.  My families weren't high in income, but they seemed to have some sort of investment in therapy.  They wanted change and they were willing to make changes to see changes.  I remember later nights with a mother who had escaped an abusive situation with her four children and I remember the conversation that last session when she looked back at her children's progress.  She cried and stated that for over a year all four of her kids were paralyzed with fear and seemed like they were reliving the trauma.  After eight months of play therapy, filial therapy, and family therapy sessions, the kids were blossoming.  With the children at the babysitter, she cried for two hours while we processed her own journey, her guilt and shame, her wishes for her children, her plan to get them there, and the joy she felt in knowing she had helped them by asking for help.

There was something wonderful about that old counseling center on 42nd street.  The old house had a sense of comfort, calmness, and separateness that most days I crave as the screaming kids, banging walls, and horrible bell systems seem to interrupt my children's stories of their lives.  Now days, I almost beg parents to come to session.  They have nothing to pay, no time to invest, and are only good at continuing to see the bad while still denying their role.  While I have moments of exception and days where I see a change, the majority of my time walking through community mental health has been a sad realization that change is a choice, and some people aren't ready to make that choice for themselves, their children, or their communities yet.

I think I am still on my journey.  I remember what it was like to have a sense of purpose as a therapist and not feel like a babysitter for angry children or a cab driver, lunch lady, disciplinarian.  I am getting that itch to figure out where this journey will lead.  I am getting closer to the top of another hill where the road will continue to lead down the next twist.  I think in some ways I will hate to let go, but in others, I need to for my own mental health.  I am plotting, planning, waiting for direction, but I will not stop.  I am not sure where this journey is leading but I am excited for the possibilities.  In the mean time, I am going to try and find the bright spots each day, even if I only spot a few...

I've never met a person, I don't care what his condition, in whom I could not see possibilities. I don't care how much a man may consider himself a failure, I believe in him, for he can change the thing that is wrong in his life anytime he is prepared and ready to do it. Whenever he develops the desire, he can take away from his life the thing that is defeating it. The capacity for reformation and change lies within.
~Preston Bradley~