Those who have been following this blog for a while know that in the past several months, I've been seeing a counselor who works a lot with folks who are seeking a vocation on the churchy side of the street. It's not that I was worried my immortal soul was in jeopardy or that my relationship with God had fallen apart ... or even that I thought I was losing my grip on sanity. (No more so than other seminarians who struggle to balance work, family and school obligations, anyway.) I was just feeling stretched a little thin and unfocused. I was beginning to think if I didn't start getting new tools to get a grip, too much could slip away before I'd even notice. So, a few times a month I checked in with my counselor and followed her suggestions on being aware of what I'm doing, being intentional in my spiritual practice, and working through some of the character traits that could get in my way of effective ministry, like impatience. Many of those exercises have been worked through right here on this blog, like identifying the milestones in my life that are important to me and where I'm going, thinking about the role of prayer in my life and how it could affect my future vocation, searching for ways to bring grace and patience into frustrating situations, and how to balance my introversion (note I didn't say "overcome" it) with the need I'll have to work a room when I'm in a ministerial role. Like most good counseling experiences I'm familiar with, I've learned that very little of the sessions have to do with tremendous insights from the counselor; it's more a case of the one paying the bills taking time to actually think about the issues at hand, whether there's an actual resolution to be had or not.
My counselor went over my list of goals last week and announced it appeared we'd discussed each of them and while I had some work to do, it was stuff I could do on my own (and here's the surprising part) with some help from my dog Beans. Huh? What help could a 2 year old bundle of unfocused energy be for me? I felt a bit like the famous general (and leper) Naaman must have felt when he traveled to Elisha's place to ask for a cure and was told to go wash in the Jordan seven times and he'd be healed. (Yeah, I know, this is pretty esoteric stuff for a large batch of my readership. You can read the whole story here.)
The point she was trying to make, I think, is that sometimes we're too quick to shell out big bucks for a cure (you know, like up to $125 a session, including insurance billing) when there's a simpler solution right under our noses. For me, the "simple" solution is to continue working with Beans in his Therapy Dog classes. Granted, we're not going to pass this time -- trying to bite someone on the first night of class pretty much disqualifies the human/canine team from getting a completion certificate. (I won't say which of us did the chomping -- we're in it together, so it was our combined action.) However, there are a lot of lessons that transfer nicely from the therapist's couch to the classroom: socializing, patience, empathy, reading others' emotions and learning how to work with what you have.
I have to say, my counselor is right. Instead of getting exasperated because we haven't completed a lesson perfectly, we both need to enjoy being in the moment and in each other's company. We need to learn to adapt to each other's shortcomings and help accentuate the good qualities of each other and lend a helping hand (or paw) when the other is just not getting it. Actually, Beans is a much better team member than I am. No matter how many times I screw up, he still offers his paw for a high-five or a shake and is ready for whatever comes our way next. Sometimes there are things he hates. It's obvious, but he still has a sense of enduring unpleasantness that many of us could only hope to emulate. I think Beans would joyfully take the chance to jump in the Jordan seven times, especially if I were right there with him. Well, buddy, for the next six sessions of this class, and for the rest of your life, you can count me in. Let's get muddy!
