Writing Myself Well

My mind races and I have the undeniable urge to run out of the room.  I grip the arms of my chair to make sure that I don’t.  I am about to share a painful childhood experience with a group of near strangers.  They are staring at me with kind expectancy.  I have willingly agreed to do this for The Allender Center’s Certificate Training program, but now it seems like a foolish, exposing thing to do.  Something akin to how I would feel if I went grocery shopping naked. 

Why would I choose to write about such a tragic time in my life and then willingly share it with others?  Was I crazy?  It seems so counter intuitive to everything I have been taught by my parents, the church and well-meaning friends.  

As a society, we are encouraged to put the past behind us and press onward and upward. “What’s done is done” and “don’t cry over spilled milk” are two refrains I’ve heard over and over again.  Even Paul in the book of Philippians tells us to forget what is behind us and press ahead to the prize that is in Christ. 

I had done a great deal of pressing on, yet my spiritual walk had become anything but joyful and life giving.  Instead, I felt weary, run down and just getting by with a low-grade numbness invading the crevices of my soul.  Could there be another way?  Could it be possible that Jesus was asking me to enter some of the more painful stories of my life; stories that I would much rather keep sealed off never to be opened again? 

What if maybe, just maybe, Jesus is really behind me, not just ahead of me. What if he is wooing and calling me to write and share some of these painful experiences so that I can find redemption from the pain, patterns and debris of my past that is keeping me from experiencing the abundant life I’ve been promised?

Dr. Dan Allender’s book, To Be Told, resonates deeply with me. He states:  

“Our own story is the thing that most influences and shapes our outlook, our tendencies, our choices and our decisions.  It is the force that orients us toward the future, and yet we don’t give it a second thought, much less careful examination.  It’s time we listen to our own story.” 

I guess it was my time.

My voice falters as I begin.  I start to read the particular details of one of my painful childhood stories; the Bee Gee song that was playing on the radio, the sting of the hot August sun on my adolescent skin... 

We had been instructed by our leader not to narrate our stories as if bystanders casually observing the action from a safe distance, but instead to get back down in the dirt of the story.  I was consciously using my senses to kick up the dust as I walk back through it. 

I continue reading, allowing the images, sights, sounds and the presence of the characters involved wash over me.  I could actually feel myself as that twelve-year old girl again. 

I keep sharing this way and as I do my jaw clenches and I feel a heavy knot in the pit of my stomach.  The flush of shame rises from my chest into my face as I recount the intense feelings of powerlessness and betrayal that marked me in this particular story.  I am walking in the valley of the shadow of death and it feels like hell.  Waves of grief come as I experience the pain and agony of this particular time in my life afresh.  I somehow finish but the sorrow is deep and the tears continue to flow. 

I catch my breath and gather the courage to look up, cautiously making eye contact with my fellow story sojourners who have just witnessed my intense valley walk.  Their faces are brimming with tears.  Many of them seem to be as shaken as I am.

There is a deafening silence and then something remarkable happens. 

They begin speaking beauty into my sad and grief filled soul with curiosity, kindness and compassion.  They start making holy observations and pointing out profound truths I had never had eyes to see before.  They ask insightful questions and we explore my story more in depth and then, through shared eyes, new truths are revealed to me.  This stunning care towards me and my story starts to shake loose a new way of seeing and an unbelievable freedom is being born in its wake.  Through this process, I break strong-holds that my past had on me which I didn’t even know existed.  

A torn piece of me is sewn back together again. 

I feel a shiver of joy rush through me and a lightness of being that I still can’t quite explain.

Since that first time, I have pondered, written and shared other foundational stories from my life and have cried many tears in the process.  Each time, I am newly amazed at the transformation that happens when I write and re-enter my stories in this way.  It is in and through the valley where I have found freedom from some deep seeded wounds and vows which were keeping me from experiencing the prize of Christ that Paul was speaking of; joy, delight, love, wellness.

Walking in our valley experiences is not for the faint of heart.  It can be a treacherous path filled with unexpected twists, turns and precarious land mines. And the fruits of this particular labor make it worth the journey.  

Billy Graham once said; "Mountaintops are for views and inspiration, but fruit is grown in the valleys." 

How true I have found this on my own healing path. So, what about you? Will you come and spend a little time in your valleys?  I promise you, the beautiful, majestic mountains are just on the other side, waiting for you. 

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To sign up for one of our open story groups, click HERE

You can learn more about The Allender Center and the amazing work they do in the world by clicking HERE

Strength in Community

“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor:  If either of them falls down, one can help the other up… A chord of three strands is not easily broken.” Ephesians 4:9-10, 12

I first experienced the tremendous healing power of a group when working with kids at the wellness center a few years ago.  There were 10 kids in the room ranging from 7 – 12.  They were all girls and the other thing they had in common was that cancer was affecting their life.  One day a 9-year-old girl was lying on her mat, too sick from her treatment to participate in the yoga.  Another girl made a comment that it wasn’t fair that she wasn’t doing it.  Her older sister shot up like a rocket and leaned way into the other girl’s space and said, “It’s because she’s got cancer!”  Another young girl in a quiet and sad voice said, “my dad just died from cancer,” and one more girl spoke up to say, “My dad died last year from cancer.”  I threw my plan out the window and used the next hour to bring to light the elephant in the room.  When I first began volunteering there, I was determined to provide a fun distraction from the cancer.  I tried not to mention the “C” word unless one of the kids brought it up, and they rarely did, because they were happy to get a break form it. 

We began to pretend our minds were televisions and we each held our remote and practiced pushing pause, we turned in to focus on the unchanging light within each one of our hearts.  We paused to breathe deeply and exhale away the tension and fear and sadness we shared.  The light inside of each of our hearts seemed to be connected to our loved ones and together it was stronger.  The children identified what was hard about cancer and suddenly they didn’t feel so alone in their pain and it loosened its grip, jut a bit.  I explained that every person in that room had the cancer channel on their T.V.  It is a hard place to wait.  It’s helpful to remember, but also important not to stay too long in the place of sadness.  We have the power to push pause or change the channel at any moment.  The children were invited to remember a precious memory from the past, a happy day or moment, before cancer showed up.  You could see the smiles on the kids’ faces as they remembered when life was “normal.”  The kids learned how important it is to remember our loved ones with gratitude, for this is how they live on in our hearts.  We can turn our remote controls to a place of happy remembering whenever we want, but be careful not to stay too long there either.  We have to live in the present moment and work in each moment to carry the light of those we have loved and lost out into the world.  Today, in the midst of being too close to cancer, I remember that group with profound gratitude because it helped me name my own grief and fear around the disease. 

The next time I found myself in a group that rocked my world was a “Listen to My Life” personal story mapping group.  Seven of us met weekly in a friend’s living room for over a year to unpack our stories and begin to recognize and reflect back to one another the work that God has been doing in our lives from the beginning.  Sometimes we miss the forest through the trees and we need caring eyes and loving gazes in the dark places of confusion and shame.  It is so transformative to have love in the valleys and company all along the journey.  As we entered into the intimate places of our stories together our compassion and love grew beyond what we could have hoped for or imagined.  We began to recognize universal themes of humanity that felt so personal until we noticed them threaded through the fibers of other stories at the table.  Dan Allender said, “We can’t see our face unless it’s reflected back in the face of another.”  The mirroring and attunement that happened at that table changed my brain and my life.  I healed in deep places that I didn’t even realize I was broken in.  To offer this gift of sacred community and hold safe containers of care is one of the primary missions of SOW that…

I also sat in a circle with 86 others at a woman’s retreat this week.  It was a beautiful space filled with courageous and blessed women.  After spending an hour moving and breathing and praying with our mind, body and Spirit, you could feel a lightness and beauty and ease floating through that space.  The women did a guided meditation in which they scanned their bodies for the clenched fist and places they were still clinging tightly and were invited to let go and breathe life and blessing into every fiber of their beings.  They turned to face another person in the circle and for just 3 minutes were asked to share their hearts and then practice listening from the heart.  After that exercise each woman checked out with a word, the harvest of blessing that they would take back into their daily walk.  It was holy and beautiful and affirmed the profound need and value of community.  We spend our lives serving and giving and doing, but the time has come for us to cultivate a pause, to be still and allow loving eyes to rest upon us.  We must show up for ourselves and come to the table of blessing, to be seen, known and loved.  If this is what your heart needs, please click the link to sign up for our “Lighten UP – wellness group” starting this month.

"Knowledge is power.  Community is strength & positive attitude is everything.”

-Lance Armstrong