God, grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change;
the Courage to change the things I can;
and the Wisdom to know the difference.
Thursdays at 10 AM I present on "Spiritual Care" in the psychiatric unit of our local hospital, Jersey Shore Hackensack Meridian. I introduce myself as a volunteer chaplain, neither professional, nor certified nor ordained; a layman. I elicit immediate interest when I say that, with family and friends, I have directed a residence for low-income women, many who come from psych wards like the one in which we gather, for 17 years.
I highlight that I am NOT a physical trainer, noting my small muscles, expanded waistline, and lifetime avoidance of vegetables, weight-lifting, and stretching. But...if I were to offer physical exercises...breathing, stretching, resistance, walking... they would benefit everyone, regardless of body type...small/large, old/young, woman/man. And so, I continue, I will offer spiritual exercises that are good for everyone, regardless of religion and beliefs, since we all share the same human spirit.
What I offer is largely the practices of the 12-step traditions of Alcoholics Anonymous and related programs. (Not the sophisticated itinerary of St. Ignatius of Loyola.)
Gratitude
I ask what they are grateful for about being here, in this place. Answers come easily: I am getting the help I need. I have a roof and meals. I woke up this morning. I like the people here. As they answer I offer small plastic bottles of water; several accept and say thank you. I ask: what did you say? Thank you. I ask: During those seconds of gratitude for the water, are you angry? anxious? depressed? jealous? regretful?
I recall an Oprah Winfrey show of 25 years ago. She had very glamorous celebrities who all witnessed to a radical change of life. They all were "born again." Went from depressed/jealous/anxious/regretful to joyful/serene/hopeful/confident. What changed them? Their gratitude journal. They had adopted the practice every night before going to sleep of writing five things of their day for which they were grateful.
I share a habit I have developed: When something bad happens...bang my toe, hit my head, get stuck in traffic when I am late for something, etc... instead of cursing the thing, I thank. I calmly voice "thank you, thank you, thank you." It is marvelous: when I focus off the pain and onto thanks the pain diminishes, markedly. I recall that our mental attention is like our visual focus: we concentrate on one thing at a time, and all else fades into the background. I recall the Lamaze child-birthing classes wherein the mother in labor focuses away from the contraction pain at a spot on the wall, on moving her hands across her belly and a specific breathing pattern. And so, in gratitude all the toxic emotions decrease.
Another helpful habit: when my mood is down I quietly count on my fingers 10 things I am grateful for: things very small and very large. At the end of the simple exercise, my mood lifts. I then invite everyone to join me in quietly doing that very exercise.
I encourage them to be grateful for their specific body. Many of us are unhappy with our bodies. But, we are breathing, walking and we have reserves of energy and stamina. This is a great gift, however imperfect by some societal standard.
I encourage gratitude for the stay in the hospital as a sabbath or sabbatical: an opportunity to relax and rest for a while, to breathe deep and slow, detach from stress and pressure, get deserved help, make friendships, reset, reconnect with loved ones and with God.
Powerless
Admitted we were powerless over _______; that our lives had become unmanageable. (Step 1)
Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could return us to sanity. (Step 2)
EVERYONE has "a thing." Something that is overwhelming, uncontrollable, invincible when it strikes. Our freedom and will power are real, but very, very small in comparison with "the thing." The thing can be addiction (alcohol, drugs, gambling, sex, work, shopping, eating...) or an emotional condition (anxiety, depression, anger, jealousy...) I explain the nature of the 12-step programs. Usually a few people are very familiar with them. I mention that I had attended years ago a number of EA (Emotions Anonymous) meetings which I found very helpful.
The first step is to give up the fight. To surrender. To breathe slow and say: Yes, I am an alcoholic or sex addict or rage-aholic. On my own will power and resources I cannot control the thing. To cease from "white knuckling" which is the acceleration of pressure as the will fights the impulse, the fists tighten and the knuckles whiten until an explosion of the compulsion.
But the surrender is not to despair. Rather, step two is "came to believe that a power greater than myself could return me to sanity." Trust: that there is Something...Someone great, powerful, merciful, kind...who can rescue me. So, we call for help. We call out to heaven as we look for help from others.
Analogy. We are about a mile from the Jersey Shore beaches of Belmar, Avon, and Spring Lake. I ask what to do if caught in a rip tide at the beach. They all know NOT to swim against the rip tide as that will exhaust us and we will drown. Rather: accept the rip tide, "go with it" in a degree, attempt to swim parallel with the shore and wave for help to the lifeguard and friends.
Analogy. In my supervisory career in UPS I was sent to "skid school" put on by Liberty Mutual in which I was trained how to train tractor drivers how to handle a skid. It was thrilling: we would drive a tractor-trailer and the trainer would randomly engage the brakes and put us into a skid on ice. The impulse, of course, is to slam on the brakes and turn out of the skid. That is the worst possible reaction as the tires freeze, no traction is attained, and you continue helpless in the skid. Rather, realizing you are in a skid, you do the counter-intuitive: you steer directly into the skid so that tires are directed with the skid, and you gently-at-first feather the brakes, slowly gaining traction until you are able to brake or steer out of the skid. As with the riptide and the "thing," there is an acceptance and a partial surrender as you take alternate steps to be free from calamity.
Analogy. A marathoner in the Rocky Mountains ran directly into a Grizzly Bear. As the bear tore him apart he recalled that a punch to the nose of a bear could startle him and make him flee. As he started to box, the animal became more angry and forceful. Realizing the fight was futile, the man went limp and dropped to the ground. At that precise second, a sound in the leaves startled the bear who ran away. The man survived, claiming that an angel had rescued him. For our purposes, the point is that in that situation surrender was far superior to fight.
And so I invite all of us to quietly, prayerfully admit our powerlessness as we ask for help.
Powerless over Others
Next we do some Alanon stuff: about codependency of those very close to the compulsive. I recall an Irish Catholic priest friend (who originally directed me towards the 12-steps) who had never lived anywhere where (family, seminary, rectories, retreat centers, missions) where there was not an alcoholic living. If I am close to anyone with such a condition, I am powerfully pulled into the chaos and some kind of codependency: anger, victimization, enabling, etc. And so, Alanon (and related programs like Adult Children of Alcoholics, etc.) assist us to cut the toxic bonds and "detach with love." The goal is to protect our own integrity and peace, so that we might more freely love the other in truth.
We recall the "three Cs": I did not cause it, I do not control it, I will not cure it.
And so, we admit another type of powerlessness: over the condition of the one we love. And we again again surrender, looking in trust to heaven and to those around us sent from heaven.
Reconciliation
The Straight Story movie is real fact: a septuagenarian in poor health (diabetes, overweight, bad diet) learns that his brother suffered a stroke. They had not spoken in 25 years; but do not remember why as they were drinking. They live hundreds of miles from each other. Alvin Straight decides to drive his John Deere tractor mower, pulling a trailer with tent, sleeping bag, hot dogs and soda. The movie is his odyssey or pilgrimage: good things and bad things. He arrives to see his brother sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch. He quietly sits next to him. They sit together, without speaking. Finally, his brother turns to him: "Alvin, did you drive from your home, on that tractor, to see me?" "Yes" Alvin replies. Silence. The camera zooms in to show tears moving down his brother's cheek.
My friend Coleen, a flamingly passionate woman, went to see the movie The Passion of Christ about 18 times, bringing friends, and making amends to many she had harmed. She recalled that she had brutally bullied a small classmate Joey in junior high. She called him in California and learned he had a happy marriage, kids and good career. She said: "I am calling to apologize for how I treated you." Joey dismissed it: "Hey we were kids. Don't worry." Again: "I was cruel to you and am so sorry." Again dismissal: "Life goes on." A third time: "Joey, will you forgive me?" Silence. Soft sobs and then full crying, from an accomplished 45-year-old man. "Coleen, I could never understand why you hated me so and made me so miserable."
And so I invite: is there someone you feel led to reconcile, to ask for forgiveness, to forgive yourself?
Network
Each of us is as strong as our personal network, our support community. Consider: who is it you most trust? With whom you can be honest? Who makes you feel safe, happy, worthy? Is it family, friends, clergy, counselor, support group? I refer back to the boarding home we have run for 17 years ands highlight that this was possible because of a very strong, broad support system. I invite all to consider and pray for a strengthening of their network.
Intercession
A final exhortation: on the value of prayer of intercession. If I am not with the ones I love, not concretely helping them, I can always pray for them. I note that most of our children and grandchildren live away from us but my wife and I are close to them in prayer.
And so, we close with a moment of silence. An invite to pray for those we love. Also for everyone in that room and in that unit. And for all who work in the hospital in the works of mercy.
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