Confirmation and Calling

I have been at my new job for a little over two weeks. It was an incredible blessing to have the job prior to finishing my degree or acquiring my associate’s license. It seems that I either made an impression on the staff at my summer practicum or I have them fooled as to my competence. It made me feel good that my passion for helping children did not go unnoticed; however, I’ve been plagued as to whether or not I can do the job. The problem with being built up or having such high expectations placed on you is that it is more than humbling. The reality is; I feel clueless. Asbury has more than spent time and effort to prepare me, but when it comes down to intervening for someone’s life (because that’s what I have sitting in front of me in session), I feel empty—nothing to offer.

For the most part, I am in training or contacting school principals, special ed teachers, or school counselors to introduce myself and talk over potential needs that I could meet. I have not done much by way of actual therapy, which has been a bit of a relief. Whew! Dissappointment deferred. In reality, this is the way I have always handled expectations. Get in for a little bit, make a quick positive impression, and then get out of there before my lack of skill surfaces. That, or complete avoidance. I often sit back and watch others compete using the excuse that I don’t feel like playing ball, debating, or speaking up in class. Its fear that when the refiner’s fire dies down there won’t be anything left with which he can work. It is this deep seeded fear that, really, I am all chaff and stubble.

There are times though, moments, when one surprises oneself and exceeds his own expectation. In my first three days, when I was not supposed to see anyone, an emergency walked into the office. My boss was absent and could not defend me from this responsibility by taking over or assuring me that I was not expected to do anything or see this person. Instead, as I was striding up to the front office, I had a few thousand papers shoved at me and told that he/she would be back in 5 minutes. Empty. Nothing. The next 3 minutes was spent debating whether or not I should run out the door. “Lord, help me.” The panic dissolved. I found myself staring back at this individual with some resolve, somehow, with a lack of anxiety. Something kicked in—empathy for this brokenness in front of me. They lacked any hope. Emptiness met brokenness. It was a beautiful moment for me. It offered confirmation that somehow my emptiness is what makes me competent. I can only offer limited help. I can only offer what I am.

This encounter ended with hospitalization. Without it, it would have ended with the loss of life in despair. I don’t know that it won’t end that way, but I was able to be a short means of grace. I was able to be a support while their world of pain left them shaken. In the end, they got help and I felt a sense of confirmation. Confirmation that, perhaps, there is some skill and confidence that undermines this latent fear of failure. Well, that, and the reality that emptiness is really the very quality that makes for good counseling. It is awareness that empathy, compassion, and openness reaches out and supports the other sitting in front of me.