Developing a Better You

Month: September 2024 (Page 1 of 2)

A Simple Way to Help a Loved One in Pain

I’m a fixer.

In response to a frustration, hurt, or problem in a loved one’s life, my first instinct is to fix it. To solve it. To make it go away.

But for some of the deepest struggles in life, there is no fix. No solve. No solution. There is only acceptance. Endurance. Embracing. Sharing. Supporting. This is where real love and true friendship are shown. 

When we honestly ask ourselves which persons in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not-knowing, not-curing, not-healing, and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is the friend who cares.

henri nouwen

When a friend is struggling, it gives me hope knowing I don’t have to have sage advice or just the right words of comfort. What matters most is my willingness to walk the dark road beside them.

So when a loved one is in pain, simply show up. Be there. Embrace the silence. Admit that you don’t know what you don’t know. If you do, you’ll provide a deep comfort, and you’ll take another step toward Becoming Yourself.

This post was originally published July 8, 2023.

From the June 23, 2023 daily mediation from The Henri Nouwen Society

Text excerpts taken from “You are the Beloved” by Henri J.M. Nouwen © 2017 by The Henri Nouwen Legacy Trust. Published by Convergent Books.

Are You Fluid Like Water or Fixed Like Stone?

I’ve been getting frustrated.

My wife Lisa and I have been pet sitting for our daughter and son-in-law for about a week. One cat, Mama, is an angel, while their other cat, PeePee, hates me with a passion. She frequently greets me with a hiss and a swipe of her claws. Their older dog Otis is a little Maltipoo. He can be a drama king, but he’s a lovable charmer and fairly easy to care for.

And then there’s Leonard. At six months old and nearly sixty pounds, this Bernedoodle is a handful. Imagine a giant toddler with fangs who’s strong enough to bowl you over.

Leonard’s paw-to-hand ratio

Don’t get me wrong. I love Leonard. He’s goofy and fluffy and affectionate and playful and smart. He’s going to be an amazing adult dog. But right now he’s a puppy with no concept of his size and strength and a maw like a Great White. He needs almost constant attention to keep him from inadvertently destroying the house, himself, or us.

I love and thrive in routine. I get up, do my stretches and workout, make my tea and have my quiet time of meditation, reflection, and prayer. Lisa and I take our walk, then we dive into our work for the morning until 1:00 pm when we break for lunch and a few hours of creativity-replenishing reality TV. We round out the day with a late afternoon into early evening work session before going to bed early to read and play on our computers. 

Leonard is having none of it. He has his own schedule, thank you very much. But I can be stubborn and obtuse, so I’ve been trying to make Leonard work with my routine. I know that sounds idiotic, but when in the midst of a storm, sometimes my vision is cloudy.

Leonard is a force of nature, unyielding, with aspects beyond my control. My attempts to live my normal routine with him in the mix has only led to mounting frustration. Something has to change, and at this stage of his life, it isn’t going to be Leonard.

So Lisa and I have created a new routine that works with Leonard instead of fighting against him—shifting my quiet time, our lunch schedule, our TV watching. Splitting up watch duties instead of both of us being “on” during all his waking hours. Trying to become fluid like water vs fixed like stone. 

We’re in the midst of the change now, and the early results are promising. I’m already more relaxed, less stressed, and getting more done.

When life hands you a challenge you can’t avoid, adapt. Change your schedule, routine, and expectations to work with the new element vs against it. Shift your rigidity. Be fluid like water, not fixed like stone. If you do, you’ll find renewed peace and productivity, and you’ll take another step toward Becoming Yourself.

Moving Beyond Simplicity

When it comes to personal growth, Simplicity is beautiful, necessary, and eventually toxic.

I recently read this perspective on Simplicity:

Just as all higher mathematics depends on learning basic arithmetic, and just as all more sophisticated music depends on mastering the basics of tempo, melody, and harmony, the spiritual life depends on learning well the essential lessons of this first season, Simplicity. If these lessons aren’t learned well, practitioners will struggle in later seasons. But if in due time this season doesn’t give way to the next, the spiritual life can grow stagnant and even toxic.

Nearly all of us in this dynamic season of Simplicity tend to share a number of characteristics. We see the world in simple dualist terms: we are the good guys who follow the good authority figures and we have the right answers; they are the bad guys who consciously or unconsciously fight on the wrong side of the cosmic struggle between good and evil. We feel a deep sense of identity and belonging in our in-group…. This simple, dualist faith gives us great confidence.

This confidence, of course, has a danger, as the old Bob Dylan classic “With God on Our Side” makes clear: “You don’t count the dead when God’s on your side.” [1] The same sense of identification with an in-group that generates a warm glow of belonging and motivates sacrificial action for us can sour into intolerance, hatred, and even violence toward them. And the same easy, black-and-white answers that comfort and reassure us now may later seem arrogant, naive, ignorant, and harmful, if we don’t move beyond Simplicity in the fullness of time.

Brian McLaren, Naked Spirituality: A Life with God in 12 Simple Words

I resonate with this idea that the season of Simplicity is important and necessary, but if we don’t move beyond it, it becomes harmful. It’s like refusing to stop using training wheels or not changing shoes when we grow out of them. I see it in people who isolate themselves in echo chambers, only listening to and believing those who agree with them, seeing ideas or information that challenge their established opinions as harmful, wrong, or even evil. 

I understand the appeal. Reevaluating long held beliefs and positions is hard work and requires sometimes painful growth. It’s far easier to entrench ourselves, put our heads down, and assign malign motives to those on the other side of the spiritual / political / social / racial divide. I’ve done that more times than I like to admit. 

While attractive, it’s not a recipe for a healthy, vibrant life or society. If we are serious about personal development, we MUST allow ourselves to be challenged, to reevaluate our deeply held positions (you can read about my spiritual reconstruction journey beginning with this post). It takes effort and intentionality, but the freedom and joy gained is more than worth the price. 

So how about you? Do you need to grow from Simplicity to Complexity? Listen to those who hold different viewpoints. Read other perspectives. Talk with a variety of people. Ask sincere questions and really listen. Consider honestly what you’ve heard. If you do, you’ll feel the vibrancy of growth, and you’ll take another step toward Becoming Yourself.

This post was originally published November 11, 2023.

[1] Bob Dylan, “With God on Our Side,” The Times They Are A-Changin’ (New York: Columbia, 1964).

Brian D. McLaren, Naked Spirituality: A Life with God in 12 Simple Words (New York: HarperOne, 2011), 29, 30.

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