This year I’m learning a lot about maturity with HCI’s new maturity curriculum making key information from Jim Wilder’s Complete Guide to Living with Men more approachable and gentler. In that learning, I started working on overcoming maturity gaps especially around regulating every emotion and becoming a more empathetic parent. It felt like it was going well (and certainly has borne good fruit in me) but then a friend helped me see that when I thought I was attuning to anger and helping during a meltdown wasn't just anger or a meltdown at all: it was really a tantrum.  Learning this was a game changer for me.

My first semester in seminar—Asbury Seminary for those who are curious—I was assigned the task of leading a group through the book Sacred Rhythms by Ruth Haley Barton. We met a Truro Anglican Church in Fairfax weekly. I liked the book so much that six of us decided to repeat the book as soon as we reached the last page. That was ten years ago. . .

A number of years ago, I was at Virginia Hospital Center in the elevator traveling from the 8th to the ground floor. The elevator stopped, the doors opened and a small young black woman, pushed in front of me as she got on. She was determined to be right in front of all the buttons, so I stepped back. She was followed by a slightly larger black man. As she stared straight ahead, he stood at her side and bereted her. He called her every cuss word that I had ever heard.

It was dark and rainy outside, so my daughter invited the driver in. She had used a service that picks up her car, takes it to be serviced at the dealer, then drops it off at your home when the service is complete. Normally this happens without a hitch but, when the driver brought back her car, he was not going to be picked up any time soon.

 “How are you going to get home?” she asked him.

“What's this?” My daughter asked, as she handed me a small booklet. I was lying on the sofa in the living room nursing a bad cold, but I noted the booklet was by Francis Shaeffer, so I began to read. I remembered him from my college years, an intellectual giant and source of solace when I was struggling with my faith.

Francis was the founder of L’bri in Switzerland, and I found he often spoke prophetically. This essay below was published in 1974 by the International Congress on World Evangelization but seems timely today.

I’ve been recovering from my maturity deficits for over a decade. I’ve made a lot of progress and it has changed my life. It’s amazing looking back at how much my deficits were holding me back. I once thought it was normal to get angry and vent at my loved ones when I was upset! After all, I felt better when I got it off my chest, and secretly I thought they deserved it! I didn’t know I had picked up those beliefs from my family of origin and that not being able to regulate anger was an infant deficit! Imagine that! Here I was leading a healing ministry and I had infant deficits. And regulating anger was not the only one.

It was a week of little miracles, if there is such a thing as little miracles.

Miracle # One: The Sick Man

For some time some friends in Europe were asking for prayer for their son-in-law who had an aortic dissection and needed surgery. Living with an aortic dissection is life threatening but the surgery is life threatening as well. He waited several years and then was scheduled for the surgery. He had the surgery and then one thing after another began going wrong. He had over a months’ time seven surgeries. The last I'd heard he had nearly died the night before. The doctors had spent 25 minutes resuscitating him and he was now on a ventilator. The doctors had asked the family to come to the hospital at 11:00 to talk to them. I could only imagine how that conversation would go, having just recently experienced similar conversations with doctors about my beloved Sam.

At the close of the year I want to encourage you to go back through your journals, back through the little spaces we give you to make notes in your class and retreat workbooks, and drink in what God has been saying to you over the last year. How quickly we forget the thoughts, words and impressions that come to us from God throughout the year and how much we need to remember his sweet whispers!

On August 13th, I had no inkling that I was in any danger. I was interacting with a dog I knew well; a big dog that was always happy to be with me. He had brought me the ball and I was trying to get him to let it go. I had done the very same thing five minutes earlier with success, but this time when I reached back with my right hand to give his collar a tug, we were suddenly airborne. He leapt to my right and my fingers got entangled in his collar. I landed hard on my shoulder and hip. For a second all I felt was that pain, but it subsided quickly. As I sat up, I felt a burning in my hand. I looked down and could not believe what I was seeing; my fingernail was gone and so was the top half inch of my finger. My right hand, my dominant hand, my middle finger. I held the amputated limb with my other hand, trying to stop the bleeding. The owner of the dog was crying, “Oh no oh no oh no.” I got to my feet and began to look for the rest of my finger, but I could not find it as the tennis court we were on was strewn with leaves and dirt. I was nauseous and lightheaded. . .

Early in the pandemic God spoke to me: There would be people who were isolated and would need to connect with him and others on a daily basis. He gave me the name, Daily Connect, and told me what we should do: Open in prayer, do Shalom for My Body in unison, share our highs and lows in breakout groups of three, followed by a time of Lectio Divina, group Immanuel, and intercession. I was delighted to realize after we tried this collection of spiritual exercises that our new daily rhythm took one hour. Who would have thought? . . .