Like most of us, the late Henri Nouwen learned the lessons of tenderness the hard way. He was vulnerable and anxious, often lonely and insecure, and in that state found himself saying words he later regretted. Ever been there? I have all too many times. As the Eastern mystical tradition of Christianity asserts, each of us was created incomplete; through our mistakes and sins we acquire wisdom and experience that draws us closer to God. Over time, if we pay attention to the wisdom of our wounds, we can become more Christ-like. By grace, practice and wise counsel, our brokenness makes us whole. Applying this truth to his own life, Nouwen wrote:
(The same is true) when you write a very angry letter to a friend who has hurt you deeply: don't send it! Let the letter sit on your table for a few days and read it over a number of times. Then ask yourself: "Will this letter bring life to me and my friend? Will it bring healing, will it bring a blessing?" You don't have to ignore the fact that you are deeply hurt. You don't have to hide from your friend that you feel offended. But you can respond in a way that makes healing and forgiveness possible and opens the door for new life. Rewrite the letter if you think it does not bring life, and send it with a prayer for your friend. (https://henrinouwen.org)
The founder of L'Arche, Jean Vanier - anam cara (soul friend) to Nouwen and many others - puts it like this:
Genuine healing happens here (in the stability of ordinary life) not in miraculous cures, but through mutual respect, care, and love. Paradoxically, (our) vulnerability becomes a source of strength and wholeness, a place of reconciliation and communion with others. (http://www.jean-vanier.org/en)
Recently I was in conversation with a friend about knowing the difference between waiting in silence and indecision. As we spoke - and listened - I was reminded of something Fr. Jim O'Donnell told me during the time I was in spiritual direction with him. It was the start of Lent and I announced some grandiose plan to pray, fast and sharing time in a local halfway house. He listened patiently and replied, "Just try to be quiet for a few minutes each day and light a candle. Just light a candle, man. Anything else will go up in smoke because you need to practice small acts of devotion." I was a bit embarrassed
but knew he was right - and wasn't always successful that Lent even lighting a daily candle.
My insight to my friend was comparable: we learn to know the difference by practicing. Start small. Stay in your body not just your mind. And begin to feel what draws you towards life. Light a candle, man. Over time, you will grow a little bit clearer and your discernment will become stronger. But go slow. Stay small. Keep it simple. I love the way Vanier puts it in Community and Growth:
Here's a song we'll be using this year as we celebrate the 46th anniversary of L'Arche Ottawa. I think she gets it right...
credits:
+ http://www.tendernesshealthcare.com
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