The Ripple Effect of Necessary Endings Part I

I watched with great admiration these leaders who wanted me to work with them - people who knew how to ask questions, hold the space for authenticity, coach others towards their strengths, be honest with boundaries and dislikes – they were the kind of people I admired, wanted to surround myself with and wanted to become.

When the honeymoon period ended, the disillusionment arose. Although I initially considered myself amongst the elite 14 in the early days, time would tell that being the youngest had it’s disadvantages. My leadership skills side-lined in this setting; my contribution quieted. I didn’t fully realize I was being overlooked, I chalked it up to raising young kids as the excuse to not lead, facilitate, travel, debrief or any of the other aspects my job description originally entailed.

While being a part of something greater than me produced valuable growth for a long season, for many reasons it no longer served me well to continue to remain “hidden” and excused away as this is just a season. As the God-given passions inside of me unsettlingly stirred, it was clear I could no longer thrive in what felt like nearly a decade of an inauthentic version of myself.  

It wasn’t only that. My identity became so entwined with being a part of the organization that actually doing the work became secondary. Great confusion paralyzed my ability to separate myself from a collective “we”.

It would be almost two long years of discontent and wrestling with my place on the team before I could honestly say the words I had avoided…The ones that had screamed at me for too long: THIS IS NOT WORKING AND SOMETHING NEEDS TO CHANGE.!

It wasn’t until I gained insight through hindsight, that I grew aware of the extent of my idolization with this team and organization and how the weight of my decision to leave the team was so closely linked to my reputation with it all.  Who would I be without them? How could I stand on my own apart from them? Could I stay in my country of service and not be connected to the community from which I so closely tied my identity? And what about our famiy? And Jeff’s role on the team? I became acutely aware that this one decision would have such a huge ripple effect on every aspect of our lives. This was complex transition.  I had to admit that this was as far as I could go on this leg of the journey. If I stayed I would bitterly hinder my own growth, and potentially that of others, as well.  

Leadership Lessons

When we reach a developmental boundary phase - we are aware our identity with a role, a group, a country, an organization or a team, can become an playing field for growth or a prison of limitations.

For me the most relevant and greatest identity challenge at such a time came from being an expatriate and cross-cultural worker. I loved living overseas. Well, mostly! It was not a cake walk. There were daily challenges with not being understood due to lacking full language acquisition. There were the reminders of not fitting in fully and not having local family support. There were the long flights back “home” to people who didn’t really get our lives. There were the financial set-backs of living on support and coming up short. There were the team dynamics of dual-relationships and global mobility. There were the visa complications and daily wondering if we were doing something wrong with legal matters and would be kicked out. So yeah, it was in so many ways hard, but after nearly 9 years of living overseas I had grown accustomed to the challenges of living abroad chalked up to flexibility and adventure.

Despite the challenges, cross-cultural living was worth it to me. I deeply valued my regular interactions with people from around the globe. I loved being on a team of people who had such a similar passion to serve global workers. I loved hosting people from all over the world inviting them to expand our children’s worldview. I loved short and inexpensive flights to places of wonder and great adventure. I loved knowing that anywhere I went in the world, the response to, “where are you from” came a response of interest and if I’m honest a feeling of being special! Ultimately though I loved being used by God in an area of my calling and in a part of the world that was a good fit. Until I had to acknowledge it was no longer a good fit. And for that reason, all that I loved about living overseas would be in question. Was I really being asked to give all of this up because of this one angle?

A thought reverberated in my mind, “What once served you well in a position/role may be the very thing that is holding you back from becoming a more fully alive and healthy version of you in the next season!” Or said slightly differently, “What brought you here in the first place, may no longer be able to keep you here.” I was having to face the reality that I was no longer the same person as when I originally landed in this country: Grief in growth.

My role as cross-cultural worker was working. But, my role as a cross-cultural transition coach on this specific team and organization was not. I had to admit that I would remain vocationally stuck despite feeling culturally free. For almost two years, I was faced with the question, “What is the cost I am willing to pay for this internal dissonance of misfit?” Could I live with the incongruence?

Dis-integration and Re-integration in Transition

By Jeff Simons

Transition is a liminal space, a space between what was (and can’t be re-engaged), and what will be (but is not yet envisioned or realized). The same root as the word “threshold”… but often more of a long threshold-entryway, than a simple doorstep to hop over.

Transition causes a dis-integration of our Selves naturally…

Don’t be alarmed, you’re not fading into the ghostly realm! We aren’t talking about disintegrating into dust, like some Marvel movie; or being beamed into other dimension, like Captain Kirk. However, there is an unavoidable “spreading out” of the parts of ourselves across timezones and places that happens when we transition. Sometimes it’s physical belongings, other times relational connections. Sometimes it’s love and hurts of places and experiences, other times its hopes fulfilled, hopes lost, or hopes yet to be. Roots laid down, houses becoming homes, and then roots lifted up (sometimes with some tearing), and seeking new soil to root in once again.

This isn’t all bad though! Some pieces of ourselves are left behind in certain places, and with certain people—and rightfully so. They should be. But there are also pieces that get scattered about, and that need to be re-gathered, or re-integrated in our new lives going forward, in order for us to be whole again, and able to move forward on our best foot.

And not only our best foot, but into the better “next” that God is calling you to in your own transformation as a leader in the Kingdom work! Bono, from U2 coined this concept well in his song: All That You Can’t Leave Behind. The simple but moving logo of the concert series that followed this album was a heart in a suitcase. There is much that can’t be brought along, and much that can be left behind. But there are some very important pieces and dynamics of ourselves that must gather together and bring forward with you, into the new, into the future, even of the line of the horizon is still hard to make out.

THIS IS THE GOOD and HARD work of transition:

• discerning what can be left behind, and re-gathering what needs to be brought into the new

• allowing enough time and space to attend to the renewal of what’s been stressed, conflicted, exhausted and lost in the journey

• and, grieving well the things we leave behind or that have changed, and stepping wholly into the new with purpose and matured authenticity

For reflection:

1. On a blank paper, make a symbol or picture in one area representing the place you are leaving. On the other side of the paper, make a symbol of picture of the place you are going to. Make a picture of a suitcase with a heart in it in the middle of the page.

2. Now, using short words, phrases or picture, identify where in the “map” your physical belongings are (maybe some in different places, some with you currently?). Then do the same for the places in which key relationships and friendships exist. You may want to use a different color for these categories. Next identify places where conflict or unresolve exist. Lastly, identify where your dreams (or loss of dreams) exist around the map.

3. Step back and see what the Lord brings to your attention through this…

4. Lastly, write into the suitcase the things “you can’t leave behind”. Those important things (belongings, relational ties, dreams, callings) that you must carry in your heart going forward into the next season.

Common Haunting Myths About Grief in Transition

by Jeff Simons

[continuation of The Two Phantoms of the Transition Opera: Loss & Stress]

It is all too easy, and normal(!), to feel bogged down by the illusive power of grief and loss. It happens to us all!

Take some time to slowly digest these common myths about grief, and be encouraged by the stability that comes through new awareness, taking the edge off of the overwhelm and hold it may try to have on you:

MYTH #1 : : Grief proceeds through very predictable and orderly stages…

Though we can intellectually read about the phases of grief, they don’t actually cooperate with a linear timeline!

Grief is more like a knotted ball of emotions to be unwound and messed with for awhile. You may experience several of the stages throughout a day, even. And you will likely circle back to some repeat emotions in the process. Coming out of grief is not a gradual incline either, but more like waves on a seashore as a storm fades, that lessen over time with each wave, but never fully disappear or are forgotten.

Your losses and griefs are, and always will be, part of you and your story; but the sting and manageability changes over time as you allow God to walk through the griefs with you.

Many have said about grief, “you have to feel it to heal it!”

MYTH #2 : : If you express intense feelings, or difficult questions, you’re losing control of yourself!

If you’ve spent anytime in the Psalms, you will see why David was a “man after God’s own heart.” He regularly spent time voicing ALL his emotions to God, in the trust and safety of his relationship and intimacy with the Almighty. As Joey O’Connor writes in Heaven’s Not a Crying Place, “If there is a wide gulf between your faith and feelings right now because of the hurt and pain you’re feeling, that’s not hypocrisy—that’s honesty!”

God’s deepest joy is connecting and being with us in our authentic and honest communication with him. Not only can He take it, he asks us for it, and He loves it! Feel free to approach the throne with confidence, knowing that the great Counselor of unconditional love is already waiting and eager to listen and connect with you.

MYTH #3 : : People with a strong faith don’t grieve, or need to.

Grieving is normal, natural, and necessary. God actually calls us to it, makes space for it in us, and meets us in the midst. The avoidance of grief is the greater sign of weakness. It takes courage to find space and time to stop, engage in prayer, feel your feelings, name them if you can, then (though not comfortable) SIT in that place for awhile. Invite the Spirit to attend to your soul in that place. He is already there and waiting for you. He will help you move THROUGH it, and you will be the better on the other side. The grief will not longer have the hold and sting it once had before.

MYTH #4 : : You should be pretty much back to normal after 2 or 3 months.

People might have this expectation, but de-cloak that from your own journey, and let God lead the timing. This will be different for everyone, as the causes, depth and effect of the losses vary widely. Let the process work itself out without pressure to “wrap it up”. Many experts have said you can expect to feel the grief for at least a year—the ebb and flow of the ball unwinding. Even years later, a smell, sight or comment may remind you of your loss and grief, and you may revisit some of the same feelings, ad find yourself reflecting once again. Time can help lessen the sting, but just like with real forgiveness among people, you must courageously go THROUGH the process to find the healthier footing on the other side. The cousin myth to this one: “Time heals all things.” This does not hold true if we are not first brave enough to journey through the valley of grief…

MYTH #5 : : A strong person should be able to deal with grief alone.

If Christ let us console him in times of grief, we can follow that example. Find safe friends and resource people who can really listen and hold this with you. Grief is one of the season’s that God helps leaders truly see the reality and power of His Body in action. See the photo accompanying the entry The Two Phantoms of the Transition Opera: Loss & Stress. If even Jesus models making room for others to help him in his biggest challenge and grief, we too can have the courage to “look outside” ourselves and humbly ask for companions in our grief journey.

There is no one right way to hold the pain of grief. But here are a few healthy suggestions for best practices for Grieving “well”:

• Let others in. [See Myth #5 above]

• Practice giving voice to your authentic feelings with a few trusted spiritual friends. Name them. Let them be felt.

• Talk about what was lost. Write about the loss. Do art or get creative in ways to validate and honor the losses.

• Celebrate the good in the midst, in an authentic way. Grief can feel like it’s coloring ALL in life, but the truth is there are always several areas in life that are still “going well”.

• Lament your way through the Psalms.

It may sound trite, but through courage and authenticity, there are true in-roads to making “friends” with your grief. God always has hidden gems and nuggets for those bold enough to traverse that dark mineshaft of the grief season. Gifts that make you that much stronger and more solid on the other side. Grief does not need to be the overwhelming driver in your life. You have many choices along the way that allows you open up places of stability and peace, with Christ as your companion, along this challenging road…

For reflection:

What is one way that you have found helpful to courageous sit in, or hold the pain of grief?

What might authentic celebration look like for you in a time of loss?

When Caregivers Hurt: Embodying Grief

When Caregivers Hurt: Embodying Grief

What does a caregiver do when they go through their own tragic losses? Although we don’t often admit it, many of us caregivers go into the line of work we do because there is something cathartic about helping ourselves through helping others. There is a natural tendency in all humans to want to avoid pain. Caregivers can be particularly good at masking their own pain through the perceivably commendable actions of putting other’s first. Quicker than others, caregivers can often see the pain on the horizon, due to our knowledge of grief, and run fast and far away to avoid confronting it head on. Or, we as caregivers can choose to give it the welcome space it deserves.

I admit, I am GUILTY of this avoidant and detachment posture. I’ve been contemplating around it these last several days of personally grieving.

When we recently received our new-to-us, one year-old rescue lab a little less than a month ago, we saw signs of a cold. The doctors sent her home with antibiotics, but as the days went on and the antibiotics lacked, it became apparent she was much worse than that. This past week, our family watched our poor girl suffer from the overwhelm of continuous and paralyzing seizures. Over the course of just one week, her whole body went from a playful young pup, into a non-stop foaming, and catatonic-state canine. Doctors could not understand the reasoning or where they were coming from. In just a matter of days, we saw her body deteriorate to an unrecognizable state. In the last 12 hours of her life, her seizures increased in length and duration. Her body violently flopping around the floor, a traumatic sight I never wished anyone, especially my kids would see. After praying with fervent hope just days prior, we made the calculated decision to put her out of her misery,

Just 3 weeks. That is the total duration of time that we had her. And sadly, that is the same amount of time we had our last dog. 3 short weeks. It was a similar scenario with different manifestations leading to death. We learned both had incurable diseases we would never have known when we adopted them.  

We now mourn the loss of both of these unjust and bizarre scenarios, where all we wanted was a furry new family member. And what we got was a list of losses a page long. Both Tracker and Azula were sweet animals with a lot of life left to live and a home where they were wanted and loved. It still makes no sense to us but here we are presented head on with the death of a loved animal and the grief that remains.

Grief doesn’t make sense. It is laden with unanswered questions and deep heartache around what never will be. 

Yesterday as I let the tears stream down my face, I had little energy to do anything else. And yet surprisingly after we cried and shared together as a family, my 7 & 11 year old children wanted to dance! DANCE! If I didn’t know better I would be angry at the insensitivity of the moment. But my knowledge of embodied grief told me that this visibly happy energy is as natural as tears. Kids demonstrate for us logical, linear adult-types that our body will naturally find ways to hold or release our feelings. If we learn to listen to it, we will be able to respond to the cries and needs are body is trying to communicate.  

Not only do we seldom see healthy expressions of grief we are fighting against what is the "right way" to grieve. We hear judgment statements like, “She was handling the loss so well. She was so put together as they buried him. He seems to be over it!”

Simultaneously, how can we criticize when we don’t know how to embody grief in healthy ways.  With the rise of modern psychology there is value given to talk therapy as an outlet for grief.  While talk therapy has proven beneficial in many ways, we quickly learn the limits of the left logical brain. While it’s not necessarily easier to talk about trauma or loss, it has become our adult form of dealing with the pain. 

Even as I write this, the words lack in explanation and healing power of the pain we recently experienced. The words lack, because words are meant to lack. We are not meant to experience grief in a logical, analytical, figure-it-all-out kind of way.  And yet that is often the only “culturally appropriate” model of healing that we are given.  We can’t talk our way out of the pain. The knowledge that our brain has a limit to how it can logically interact with trauma or grief directs us to discover other ways of dealing with grief. We must integrate our whole brain and consider how the right, creative brain can teach us to be active in our bodies as a means of release.  

Now known, but seldom practiced, is the understanding that grief can get stuck in the body…our bodies know and need permission to let go! Think of a recent blow up you’ve seen in a child or adult. This is an expression of built up grief. Doctors have noted there have been direct ties to headaches, stomach problems, back pain and heart attacks correlating to unresolved grief the body has absorbed and not released. 

In the well-known book, The Body Keeps the Score, Bessel VanDerKolk challenges us that we can circumvent the speechlessness that comes with trauma, grief and loss by releasing it through the healing powers of art, music, dance and movement. Bottom line, you have to feel it to heal it!

You have to feel it to heal it! 

As my colleague Eve Austin, a professional counselor friend reminded me recently, grief needs an outlet. She said, “______it out (dance, sing, cry, shout, run, walk, hike, stretch). Give your grief a physical and tangible outlet.” In times of grief we must find a physical outlet that allows your body to healthily engage and release the intensity of emotions that come with it. It’s not as natural for me as for my children. But it is persistently on my radar to listen well and discover new ways to release my body from carrying the burden associated with loss. 

Here are a few other ideas on concrete ways to “grieve well”:

1. Take a long silent walk with a friend.

2. Create a list of losses (i.e. the loss of dreams, the loss of money, the loss of voice, the loss of hope). Both the tangible and the intangible losses need a release.

3. Acknowledge these losses and schedule time to “work them out” via exercise or alongside a trusted friend.

4. Create a ritual such as lighting a candle once a week and space to think about the losses.

5. Do simple stretches while you create this space, thanking your body for how it has been with you in all of this.

6. Shake it out!

7. Dance it out!

8. Read the Psalms of Lament and write your own.

9. List off the gifts that came with what you lost.

10. Use color or drawing to engage.

Grief is really gratitude in response to a gift. My wise friend Eve also reminded me that “Holding both, the grief and gratitude, eventually starts to balance me out so I don’t tip over into the abyss of loss.”

Living includes loss. There is no way around it. I am to find my way into grief and allow myself permission and safe spaces to go there. This is the ongoing work of grieving that us caregivers must especially do. We must embody the grief and disembody the grief by letting it go. This is an act of care for ourselves and a model for those that we care for.

Grief is really gratitude in response to a gift.

For further thought:

What does grieving look like for you? What have you personally found helpful? Where do you struggle most?

What to do in the Waiting: The Questions of Complex Transitions - Part 2

Excerpt from What to do in the Waiting Part 1 “The period of waiting in transition has been such a long long season for me. I often felt like I did as a child in the endless snowy climate of Minnesota – will summer ever come? And like a bear moving out of hibernation, I’m ecstatic to see that spring is here for me and summer on the horizon! For those in the waiting of in between: Though your winter may be long, I believe your season of summer will soon come.

In addition to praise, play and explore here is the continuation of thoughts regarding what to do in waiting: The questions of complex transitions…

4. Embody my Transition - I am on a long journey to remind my mind to let my body express itself as guide and teacher. My call to action in my recent transition was to take my body on a daily walk or meet it on the mat in simple stretching exercises. I was to attend to what my body wanted to tell me - what it had been carrying all along. I would listen to its aches, moans and subtle plea to at minimum, MOVE! I became aware that everyday I am invited to participate in life in an embodied way - through my flesh and bones.

As I continued the practice of attending to the present and listening to my body’s needs, an increasing learning arose. The awareness of long-standing disembodiment or disconnectedness to my body over the course of my lifetime. I remember sitting in the doctor’s office once as a young person. I was asked by the attending doctor if the pain I was experiencing was sharp or dull. I sat dumbfounded. I had literally no idea what he was talking about. I said, “What’s the difference?” How do you explain and describe what feelings are like? When asked by my first counselor what feelings I was experiencing, I once again had no words. I was not aware of the lack of education I had received around what words went with feelings. I had no language to express the state my body was in. And yet now, many years and much education later, I’m aware I’m not that unusual.

This recent transition was different. I knew differently. I felt the whole thing different. It was intense and heavy and my body often just wanted to run. I became aware of the need to “read” “listen” and “study” what my body was trying to communicate and what I needed to do about it. A counselor friend described it this way, when we live under stress our cortisol levels are excreting much more than is sustainable to live with. That’s the loose definition of “burn out”. We literally have no hormones left when we’ve been living in a heightened state of stress. .

My body was trying to teach me, often in contradiction with my logical brain what to do or not to do. It was like listening to instructions given in an unknown foreign language. Many have said, the body instinctively knows how to move, stop for rest and breathe deeply. We stop at the end of a run or eat when we’re hungry or go to the bathroom when we need to. Yet many of us don’t speak the language of our body and DO NOT do these very basic bodily functions - breathing, eating, and resting. Especially in times of intense stress, a period of long grieving or after a trauma we must retrain our minds to listen to what are body is trying to say.

In transition, your body can be a master teacher providing great wisdom into your future direction. For years, but especially in times of stress, my body, when I listened spoke loudly through stomach pains and shoulder aches. It was crying for something to change! I just hadn’t been listening. I now credit my last transition with final decisions based on the way my body communicated to me about what I absolutely must or must not do. This became a profound way of listening and engaging in decision-making in a new way for me. How are you listening to what your body is trying to tell you in transition?

5.    Be the hope you need. Volunteer – in your greatest times of need, and especially in transition, look to give, not receive. When I think about the periods of major life transition over the course of my life, I’m grateful that several times I have had the privilege of a “holy nudge” to step outside of my own problems and serve others. I learned this hard lesson first the fall after my freshman year of college.

In April, as school was coming to a close, I received notice from the financial aide department at the end of my freshman year that funds were not accessible to me to support myself for 3 more years. I had a decision to make about how to raise or earn the amount I lacked. I decided I needed to work hard during the summer to manage the gap. Despite my best efforts and prayers, the funds were insufficient. That fall, as others returned to their dorms, I packed my belongings, said goodbye to the university and to the location in a short time I had grown to love.

As devastated as I was, I knew at the young age of 19, that I didn’t want my life to waste away. In addition to getting a full time job, I chose to explore two forms of volunteering. One of them was in the local children’s hospital in the play therapy ward. I was curious more than anything. What did that type of work look like? Would I want to do more of it in the future?

I quickly got to know many children who were hooked up to IV’s 24-hours a day. They needed frequent monitoring and multiple surgeries for complex illnesses I will never understand. My only job was to provide some form of joy and outlet for them to be children and not only “sick people”. As I carved out two hours a week for a year, I watched as some children improved and others did not. One day I arrived to work to discover, much to my surprise, my favorite child was no longer with us. The terminal diagnosis of children’s cancer took his young precious life.

I became aware in moments of volunteering like these of the fragility of life. That most of us have choices of what to do with unfortunate life circumstances. For many our pain is temporary. In my case these little children were hurting in profoundly more significant ways that I was in my transition away from college. I knew I needed to surround myself with them even for a couple of hours every week to remember that. I could offer them something I had that they did not - the ability to play; the ability to have hope. Every time I left I was more grateful for the life I had, despite it being so different and even disappointing. I, fortunately had the power to choose how I would build the narrative of my future. These children did not. My lacking became much less about a boulder of a problem on my path and more about seeing them as stones to use to build something meaningful from. What I gained from the experience of volunteering was profound gratitude and perspective of the bounty of what I did have!

In my recent season of transition I volunteered in the small ways that I could manage. I was once again afforded the gift of time, the resource everyone else wanted. I intentionally tried to move toward someone with needs on a weekly basis - whether that was through childcare, organizing, volunteering at a local charity, picking someone up from the airport or inviting someone for dinner. I didn’t have my natural energy and I REALLY didn’t feel like I had much to give, but I knew I had something small and I was always blessed in return.

I have the choice to dwell on my circumstances or to focus on making the most of what I have been given. Many times it is a subtle shift that changes me - when I extend myself to others I focus on what is true, honorable, right, pure, lovely and admirable.

Nevada Museum of Art

6. Keep showing up. As simple as this might sound, being present was the most profound and difficult thing I felt God nudging me towards.

When people felt uncertain and maybe even unsafe, the reminder was to show up. In showing up, I had to face people I really had no love in my heart for. Then I had to face my heart. I was invited to show up to understand my part. Show up to learn what to do next. Show up to be a part of the conversation. Show up to see where I was no longer a part of the conversation.

Likewise, I felt challenged to talk with others about all the ambiguities: “What’s next?” “What are you doing with your time?”. “Showing up” was my daily act of obedience.

In showing up, several things happened. I gained greater perspective outside of the one-sided stories I would tell myself and the small world I was creating. I once again received blessings. I met new people and gained new understanding of the way forward.

I was repeatedly faced with the graciousness of God’s timing and the lack of my knowledge about the bigger picture.

When we are faced with long periods of waiting we have the gift of deciding how we are going to posture ourselves. We have the choice to learn the lessons that only can be learned in transition. May we be bold in each of these difficult places to hear what we are to glean from this unique winter season.