I spoke with a friend I hadn’t been in touch with for several years. She described the near break up of her marriage.
She began working with a spiritual mentor. Check this out, here’s a commitment: Five mornings a week, via phone.
Plus the raw hours put in seeking understanding.
The mentor helped her view the crisis through a different lens, as a series of sacred moments.
As the rift became greater she thought to herself:
“I’m walking on holy ground.”
“This experience is pushing me to go deep.”
“I’m here to do two things: Express God and serve.”
“Whether I lose [what’s his name] today or 30 years from now, it doesn’t matter.”
“I have to let go of relying on anyone except God for my support and connection.”
“You go back to love. When you put Love first it is the antidote to everything. It shatters situations.”
I’m thinking to myself as I read over these quotes from my talk with her — my young son is going through his own crisis of friendship betrayal, where a couple of friends he’s had virtually the entirety of his life are ostracizing him — suddenly he’s finding himself without lunch and recess buddies — I’m as wounded by it as he is — and I’m thinking, can I view this as spiritual ground we’re treading on?
Can I attain the heroic level of insight my friend had in approaching her possibly shattering marriage?
What I’m admiring in her — and the reason I’m sharing it — is because there’s something universal in it. Can I make that sublimely universal message my own — so much that even my son can feel it?
Even more, can I live it so that the kid who instigated the rupture will feel it when I encounter him next . . . .
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