Years ago – when I was just discovering what it meant to be in spiritual direction – I was given a gift. It was subtle and it could have been missed. It wasn’t terribly dramatic. It was made from the stuff of everyday life. But it woke me up to God’s presence in a way I had not yet known. I was grateful for that gift. And it gave me the juice to keep at the subtle practice of spiritual direction. In retrospect, I suppose I was learning to recognize that intimacy with God – like other intimacies – is built over time, in the day-to-day.  

On that day when I was offered the gift, I was sitting with my spiritual director (a woman I had been meeting with for less than 4 months). With her I was reflecting on a recent event at my job. A significant change was occurring for me at work and, since work had been such a big part of my identity, I was feeling it deeply. I remember marveling with her over the course of events and at the serendipity of being so well taken care of in it all. (For the better part of a year – the year just prior - I had been in often jagged prayer, longing for a change, plotting for new things, but not able to orchestrate the events that needed alteration. And then, out of the blue, on a regular workday in December, a change was offered to me and offered in such a way that I was almost embarrassed by the generosity of it.) What I remember reflecting on in that spiritual direction session was a moment that I’d experienced a few weeks before - on the morning after the news had been announced that my department (and my job) would be reorganized. On that morning, in the blurry moments just upon waking, still half asleep, eyes not fully open, getting my bearings, and trying to remember what day it was, the news of the previous day came back to me. And before a thought could be formed, before I felt its full weight, I uttered out loud: “thank you.” I think it was the ‘out loud’ part that shocked me and I sat bolt upright in bed. Usually (I like to believe), I have thoughts before I utter words. But this time the words came first. The day before I hadn’t fully processed the job changes for me. I hadn’t concluded they were good. But, nevertheless, the ‘thank you’ sounded like a confident conclusion which had tumbled out from sleepy, liminal space. Later that morning my mind finally would catch up and I could see the possibilities and the freedoms made available with the changes to my work life. I could glimpse an answer to prayer, even if it wasn’t the answer I’d contemplated. 

So, a few weeks later in spiritual direction, I wanted to talk about it, reflect on it, and savor the grace-filled moment and grace-filled course of events.

In a spiritual direction session (which generally lasts an hour and occurs monthly), in addition to the savoring and the marveling, apparently, I also was grieving, processing, and resisting. I became aware of this only because at one point my spiritual director said to me (in a rather gently formed question), “So what you are saying is that this event – this exact same event – you are experiencing both as grace? And with shame?” In an instant, I saw the truth of her mirroring back to me. And for all my processing and good intentions, I don’t believe I would have been able to see those two things on my own. That was gift. Or, rather, that was part of cascading gift. 

I cannot tell you with any accuracy how that moment evolved into a gift, which continued to unfold and transform me. But I can say I have learned to recognize it as a way that the Holy Spirit joins us (as we are able and without condemnation or hurry) and accompanies us in letting go of what is not necessary (or unhelpful). You probably see the obvious here: that shame (maybe especially unrecognized shame) can undermine the availability of the grace that is offered to us. Most days I know that, too. I am just not sure that knowledge is enough. My experience tells me there is an intimacy available to us that arises when we wait and watch for the gentleness of our Divine Creator and we learn to cultivate that gentleness for ourselves and for others.

You may be asking why I would share a personal story. In part, I share because I think stories help us identify what is real in our own lives, in the world around us, and they can help us expand our imagination for what is possible. (Plus, the ministry of spiritual direction needs to be, by design, a confidential and safe process. So, if we are to tell stories we must do so without ever telling another’s story that was shared in confidentiality.)

I am new to the Franciscan Spiritual Center. I am joining an established ministry , which has at its core a heart for spiritual direction. Among other things, the FSC offers spiritual direction (for both individuals and for small groups); the FSC offers supervision groups for practicing directors; and the FSC offers a two-year training course for budding and discerning directors. As we approach the new year, we are hatching plans to build upon this foundation. In the coming year, we intend to extend community and support to those who are spiritual directors (which can be a solitary and lonely ministry). And we intend to expand the availability of spiritual direction to people who may not yet have the opportunity or means.

If this is something that you, too, value and wish to see happen and if you have the financial means to help, we are building a scholarship fund to be used for these purposes. A donation made (or postmarked) in 2022 will result in a charitable donation receipt for 2022. We will put it to use in 2023. If this is something you value but do not have the financial means to help, still join us in prayer and in intention to cultivate that gentle awareness in yourself and for others.

Blessings to you in the coming year,

Christine Naylor

Director, Franciscan Spiritual Center

PO Box 144, Marylhurst, OR 97036