A punch to the gut
We lie flat on the floor, face up, looking at the ceiling while holding hands. There is no better place for us, to compliment the low, down to the ground feeling, of helplessness that fills the air with breathlessness, and periodic sniffles. I know this feeling, I have had it before, in fact, this isn't the first time I have spent time on my office floor. Not long ago, I was face down, in the depths of despair. This is how there-is-nothing-I-can-do-to-make-this-better hits us; like a punch to the gut it knocks the wind out of us, and our sails. Taking to the floor seems like the only possible non-solution solution to the problem. Oddly, the perspective of inability opens the door to possibility, to aid, to asking for help that our capable side is loathe to admit to needing.
The new reality
My client is a young, adept, articulate more-than-capable nurse. She is well accustomed to being of service, to answering the call of the hurting, to being an aid to wellness for the sick and consoler for the dying. She works efficiently with understanding and deep compassion for suffering patients: her work is a calling, as she comforts the vulnerable in their time of need. Now she must face some facts that threaten her composure: her mom has Alzheimers. She has known this for a year and yet, knowledge of circumstances does not usually coincide with realization and acceptance of a situation: there is a delay, dear reader, a time lapse between hearing information and acclimating to the new reality. She knows what the future holds for her mother, and she also knows that the landscape of her own life is changing, and that she is not in the drivers seat as she takes this road of knowing without being able to fix or change any of it: she does not do helplessness well, but then again, who amongst us does, or wants to?
Back to the floor, literally
As we lie on the floor, the tears flow as she haltingly speaks about her fears. She is grieving, concerned, disappointed, anticipating the worst, and feeling inept, ill equipped, and near the edge of hopelessness... the floor hurts my back as we lie there looking up. It is perfectly uncomfortable: we stay there. I am teaching my young client as we lie supine, that this is exactly how loss feels, almost unbearably uncomfortable: that even if we want to get up and out of it, the heart ache travels with us, isn't that right, dear reader?
We stayed with our backs to the floor, lying flat out, despite the beginning of lower back soreness. She needs this, the uselessness of being subject to the forces that be. After all, she recognized at one point during our session, she doesn't have control over anything. Mature people know this, that while they have choice about who they are in challenging circumstances, control is an optical and emotional illusion. She is a wise one.
We lie there for a while, vulnerable, admitting to being exposed to the yuck and muck that life throws inevitably into our lives. We looked at each other at one point and I noticed she was trying to dry her ears... we both laughed as I stated and asked at the same time, "you got tears in your ears?" Sometimes, crying is the best we can do with what we've got, with what we know, and with the people we love the most.
"Who gives intuition to the heart and instinct to the mind?" (Job 38:36).
It is instinct that teaches the mind wisdom, and intuition that teaches the heart understanding. My client, as I stated earlier, is wise. She has an understanding heart. Her essence, is love.
Acceptance
Eventually, we were done with the floor. It took our weight, and the heaviness of the future remained there somehow, for the moment. There was nothing more left to not do, except this: acceptance.
I told my client, that her pain will be her best teacher. This has been true in my life. The floor is where I go when I submit to my Sovereign and beg for relief. He hears my cries, and he hears yours too, dear reader. The shortest verse in The Bible, is "Jesus wept" ((John 11:35). Jesus knows outcomes, and has compassionate understanding for us when we don't.
What I have learned dear reader, is how beautiful people are when they take care of one another. More often then not these days, when I weep, it is out of pure gratitude, for the love that washes over me daily from those that are a healing balm in my life. They are many, and I am blessed.
Help
Now for you, dear one. Do you need to lie down, face up, and cry out help, in your almost hopeless state of despair? Do you need someone to lie down beside you as your ears fill with your tears? What do you need, in your subject to circumstances present state of being?
What do you need? Sometimes, we need to look up, before we can get up. Help is available, all you need do, is ask.
We lie flat on the floor, face up, looking at the ceiling while holding hands. There is no better place for us, to compliment the low, down to the ground feeling, of helplessness that fills the air with breathlessness, and periodic sniffles. I know this feeling, I have had it before, in fact, this isn't the first time I have spent time on my office floor. Not long ago, I was face down, in the depths of despair. This is how there-is-nothing-I-can-do-to-make-this-better hits us; like a punch to the gut it knocks the wind out of us, and our sails. Taking to the floor seems like the only possible non-solution solution to the problem. Oddly, the perspective of inability opens the door to possibility, to aid, to asking for help that our capable side is loathe to admit to needing.
The new reality
My client is a young, adept, articulate more-than-capable nurse. She is well accustomed to being of service, to answering the call of the hurting, to being an aid to wellness for the sick and consoler for the dying. She works efficiently with understanding and deep compassion for suffering patients: her work is a calling, as she comforts the vulnerable in their time of need. Now she must face some facts that threaten her composure: her mom has Alzheimers. She has known this for a year and yet, knowledge of circumstances does not usually coincide with realization and acceptance of a situation: there is a delay, dear reader, a time lapse between hearing information and acclimating to the new reality. She knows what the future holds for her mother, and she also knows that the landscape of her own life is changing, and that she is not in the drivers seat as she takes this road of knowing without being able to fix or change any of it: she does not do helplessness well, but then again, who amongst us does, or wants to?
Back to the floor, literally
As we lie on the floor, the tears flow as she haltingly speaks about her fears. She is grieving, concerned, disappointed, anticipating the worst, and feeling inept, ill equipped, and near the edge of hopelessness... the floor hurts my back as we lie there looking up. It is perfectly uncomfortable: we stay there. I am teaching my young client as we lie supine, that this is exactly how loss feels, almost unbearably uncomfortable: that even if we want to get up and out of it, the heart ache travels with us, isn't that right, dear reader?
We stayed with our backs to the floor, lying flat out, despite the beginning of lower back soreness. She needs this, the uselessness of being subject to the forces that be. After all, she recognized at one point during our session, she doesn't have control over anything. Mature people know this, that while they have choice about who they are in challenging circumstances, control is an optical and emotional illusion. She is a wise one.
We lie there for a while, vulnerable, admitting to being exposed to the yuck and muck that life throws inevitably into our lives. We looked at each other at one point and I noticed she was trying to dry her ears... we both laughed as I stated and asked at the same time, "you got tears in your ears?" Sometimes, crying is the best we can do with what we've got, with what we know, and with the people we love the most.
"Who gives intuition to the heart and instinct to the mind?" (Job 38:36).
It is instinct that teaches the mind wisdom, and intuition that teaches the heart understanding. My client, as I stated earlier, is wise. She has an understanding heart. Her essence, is love.
Acceptance
Eventually, we were done with the floor. It took our weight, and the heaviness of the future remained there somehow, for the moment. There was nothing more left to not do, except this: acceptance.
- Acceptance of the fact that we lose our loved ones through separation, divorce, death, and sometimes, horribly, right before our very eyes, one lost memory at a time
- Acceptance of the fact that we are helpless to help and that is when we need it the most
- Acceptance of the fact that even when we don't understand, God has a plan beyond our comprehension
- Acceptance too, that all we can really do when things get really bad, is to stay, be love, be a healing balm of acceptance: accepting what someone else is suffering without accusing them, without getting angry at them, without blaming them for what is clearly, beyond their control.
I told my client, that her pain will be her best teacher. This has been true in my life. The floor is where I go when I submit to my Sovereign and beg for relief. He hears my cries, and he hears yours too, dear reader. The shortest verse in The Bible, is "Jesus wept" ((John 11:35). Jesus knows outcomes, and has compassionate understanding for us when we don't.
What I have learned dear reader, is how beautiful people are when they take care of one another. More often then not these days, when I weep, it is out of pure gratitude, for the love that washes over me daily from those that are a healing balm in my life. They are many, and I am blessed.
Help
 |
| Can you help me up? |
What do you need? Sometimes, we need to look up, before we can get up. Help is available, all you need do, is ask.
