Think Small

Mother Teresa, the saint of Calcutta, was fond of saying, "We can do no great things, only small things with great love." Mother, no doubt, had a bit of the trickster in her...for she knew better than most that when you do something with great love, it ceases to be small. Love is eternal, and it infuses everything it touches with Eternity. Can't get much bigger than that.

Her challenge, historically known as the "little way," is a great one for all of us as we face the New Year. I believe that people too often think that anything less than finding a cure for cancer, or solving the economic crisis, or donating a ton of money to some well-deserving non-profit organization is not significant enough to tilt the world. But the reality is that when you love another, you move yourself and that person toward Heaven. BIG tilt. Honest to God.

Start with yourself and those closest to you, and work your way outward from the center. What little things can you do today, right now: offer a smile? an affirming word? a quick prayer? a menial task done without being asked? a "love letter" on a post-it? some minor sacrifice for another that stretches you a bit?

Resist the temptation to think that "little acts of love" don't matter, and strive for consistency. Resist the temptation to get perfectionistic about your actions, and move in freedom. Resist the temptation to need someone/anyone/everyone to notice how loving you're being. This plan is good for you, naturally and supernaturally. And the fact that God notices and is pleased is a pretty good reason to be at peace also!

Everyday, make a decision to do little things with great love...or as much love as you can muster up. And the world will become a better place. Happy New Year...think small!

Careful Where You Dig

A couple of summers ago King Tutankhamen visited our city again. It had been over twenty years since the boy king, who died in 1339 B.C., was on tour along with artifacts from his tomb. As impressive as the exhibit was, though, I found the story of his discovery as interesting as the treasures that lay inside his almost perfectly in tact final resting place. Howard Carter, the English archaeologist who found Tut’s tomb, had searched carefully, persistently, purposefully for ten years in the blazing Egyptian desert. And when he finally found the entrance to the tomb, almost accidentally, the work was still not finished. Locating a treasure is not worth very much if you destroy it in the unearthing process. So, Carter and his team ever so gently, almost reverently, explored the interior of the tomb, and the person that lay within, foot by foot, observing, studying, learning with great respect. After ten years of searching, you can imagine how much Carter might have been tempted to rush, to hurry, to take control of his find and exploit it for personal gain. But he maintained a remarkably unhurried and cautious pace, not wanting to damage in any way such a precious find. The process was more important to him than any individual agenda. Howard Carter’s approach to King Tut and his world serves as an apt analogy for how spouses should explore their partners’ respective pasts. In relationships, we must be careful when digging…archaeology with a heart!
Wanting to explore the mystery of your beloved, spiritually, emotionally, and physically, is an essential part of intimacy. If you’re not curious about how your partner has become the person he or she is, there’s a problem. After all, how else can you learn how to love him or her more and more fully. In order to make discoveries, we must do some digging into the past; not everything lies on the surface. There are great treasures that lie buried in history, but we must proceed with great care and gentleness.
A few guidelines for this “archaeological process” are sure to help your “dig” remain helpful and not harmful.
First, be clear about your motivation. Why are you asking the questions you’re asking? Is it to know your partner more fully so that you can love him or her more completely? Is it that you want your spouse to feel cared for, attended to, celebrated? Or, is your agenda less about love and more about control? Are you attempting to gain the upper hand in an argument, shame or guilt your partner into a subordinate role, make yourself feel significant.
Second, keep in mind that prior relationships, prior choices (both good and bad), prior experiences must be understood within the contexts they happened. A huge mistake would be to judge your spouse for something that happened years ago, with no respect for time, place, or culture. This would be a little like Howard Carter criticizing King Tut for his burial attire, or the way his tomb was organized. Reality check: ask yourself if you and your world have changed at all since you were in high school or early adulthood. Have you learned anything new about life and love, responsibility and freedom since you were 18 or 21 years old...or even since last year? My hopeful guess is that you have.
Finally, there must be freedom to share what one is comfortable sharing…and permission to say “I’m not ready to go there” or “not now” if the questions begin to feel uncomfortable, or the tone of the discussion begins to feel less like intimacy and more like an inquisition. If this occurs, put the breaks on and figure out what the emotional discomfort is about. It might be related to the here-and-now, the style or tone of the conversation, but it may also be linked to pain from the past that has not been fully healed. If the latter is the case, consider red-flagging the issue and revisiting it individually and/or as a couple with a trained third party (i.e. a counselor). Remember, discovering a treasure is wasted if, in the handling, we destroy it.

Holy Days

Holidays. What are some of the words that immediately come to mind? Vacation? Family? Shopping? Food? How about holiness? Honestly, holiness would not have been the first word that came to my mind either. Yet, essentially, that is what the holidays are about.
The word holiday comes from the Old English halig daeg, or holy day. Holy Days have traditionally been days in which children of God, whatever their religious tradition might be, are asked to be particularly aware of God's universal call to be holy. Holiness is a journey toward the good, toward transformation, toward Heaven, and in both the Hebrew and Greek language, holiness has two aspects to it: separation and union.
First, we are called to be separate from the world of darkness, where one lives a selfish, confused, ultimately directionless life, apart from God. Then, we are called to an ever-deepening relationship with the God of Love, His will for our lives, and His hope for the world He loves beyond words.
Unfortunately, holiness has not appeared to be a very attractive calling. Holiness has mistakenly been associated with words like judgemental, condescending, and escapist. "Holy rollers" and "holier than thou" attitudes give many the sense that "holiness" is about rules, perfectionism, and a lack of concern for those who are "outsiders." No wonder so many have trouble with the word holy.
Holiness is so much easier to recognize than it is to describe.
While I was in seminary, Jenni and I lived next door to a Chinese-American family. Our first week as neighbors, the Yens invited us over for dinner and when "Grandma" found out that I was a seminarian she asked me privately, in her best English, if I might do her a favor. Would I read her favorite Bible verses into her tape recorder so that she could listen to them in her free time?
Why did this 80 year-old woman make such a request? Was she practicing her English? No. Was she trying to look more "Biblical" in the eyes of her family and friends? No. Did she appear unbalanced, rigid, compulsive? Hardly. Her mind was sharp, her manner was joyful, and her eyes were filled with charity. I told her I would gladly do this for her, but awkwardly asked her why. She explained that she didn't speak or read English well, and her church was Chinese-speaking. She wanted to listen to her favorite verses in English because it was not nearly as familiar to her as her native Mandarin. Thus, she would have to listen "very closely."
Oh how different this world would be if more people listened “very closely” to the gentle urging of God…to be loving, truthful, gentle, kind, generous, and self-sacrificing.
Grandma gave me a wonderful example of what holiness really is, and I remember her in a special way this holiday season; this season of holy days. She now hears God's voice most clearly, and sings with the choirs of Heaven. May we hear those choirs of saints and angels during this season of miracles, and recognize in a new way how close God is to us throughout the year.
Let’s remember what this season of holiness is really all about….new beginnings, transformation, and hope! Let’s take inspiration and put it into action, re-commit ourselves to personal growth and healing, and bring light to our hurting world.

The Season of Hope

The Holiday Season is upon us, an “official” time of celebration of things foundational and eternal, but also a time of waiting! I think of this as the Season of Hope. Hope, the little sister of Faith and Love, is such a beautiful virtue, so essential to healing and wholeness...and of course at the very heart of our Stillpoint mission.
Symbols of this “thing with feathers” (as Emily Dickinson put it), Hope, are embedded throughout Sacred Scripture: the birth of Israel, manna in the wilderness, The Cloud by day and the Pillar of Fire at night, the Promised Land of Canaan, a Baby in a manger, an empty tomb, Bread and Wine, the New Jerusalem, and the perseverance of the saints just to name a few. And what we know deep in our hearts is that Hope is like a torch, chasing away the darkness and enabling us to see what lies ahead: Providence….God’s care. Because He wants us to grow in faith and dependence on Him, though, God doesn’t usually show us the details of the future. Don’t you wish He did? But then we wouldn’t ever grow up, and we need to grow up in order to love and change the world. However, God does send consolations to help us hang in there and trust that good is coming, and often these consolations take human form.
My first year of graduate school I worked three different jobs, one of which was selling programs at Dodger Stadium. Nothing wrong with this job, except that it was the same one I had when I was sixteen. And now at twenty-four I wanted something more “professional.” But the money was surprisingly good, and the work fit with my schedule, so I suited up and showed up. My stand was directly facing the skyscrapers of downtown, and occasionally people I knew from high school or college would pass me on the way in to the game, dressed in business attire and looking very successful. The surprised expressions on their faces told me they weren’t exactly sure what I was doing with myself, and I usually didn’t have the opportunity to explain. I felt like I was a lifetime away from my dream. One night, as the crowds streamed in, and I was busily trying to look busy, I heard someone yell, “Hey, Doctor Porter.” Without thinking about the fact that I was still six years away from earning that title, I turned to see a teacher from my high school coming toward me with a big grin on his face. I was in the middle of Finals and was exhausted, so the emotions surfaced quickly. All I could get out was a quiet, “Thank you.” He gave me a hug and added, “I thought maybe you needed to hear that.” Blessed are the messengers of hope.
In this Season of Hope, I want to thank you on behalf of Stillpoint Family Resources for being a messenger of hope, by helping us extend hope to those in need: to the person fighting a drug addiction, a couple struggling to stay married, a suicidal teen, or the single mom who has just heard the news that she’s carrying a special needs child. Because of all the ways you give to Stillpoint, through prayer, through service, and through financial support, we are able to serve as messengers of hope to over 150 families in nine different locations throughout Ventura, Los Angeles, and Orange Counties every week. We thank you for standing with us, and we humbly ask that you continue to help us in any way you can.
I wish you a blessed Season of Hope, and a New Year full of meaning and purpose!

November 2nd (All Soul's Day)

As sycamore leaves fall,
and roses start their final bloom,
we make our yearly pilgrimage
to this most human garden,
careful steps, questioning hearts.
The air is crisp, and puffs of smoke accompany the prayers we sow
like incense at the altar.
A hundred marble altars and more
beckon us draw near and fall;
petitioners we are
now on our knees the grass, dull brown,
resisting,
testing our resolve
in this harvest season.

What harvest this?
This garden gives by taking, purifying
intention and memory,
parsing what was and might have been.
Look for color, consolation, cure.
The cornucopia waits at home,
near the warm hearth and the crackling fire,
but is not here.
Leave expectation and desire at the iron gate, and wait.
The liquidambars on the hill aflame, red orange glow
like candles in a sanctuary holding back the night,
but the light
is for illumination,
not for heat.

Why are we here? What do we fear?
We walk among the rows,
processing in a clerical style and nodding
to each other reverentially
as if we know.
We read the litany of names as the angelus rings
and a nightingale sings.
Why are we here? What do we hear?
Late it is, but not too late.
This place is for the living not the dead.

Generational Healing

This growth I’ve been writing of is not just a process of healing for our families and for us in the here-and-now. The work we do with God, the hoping, struggling, trusting, and waiting, will bless generations that will come after us. Our grandchildren will be less fearful and more free because of our efforts, anointed by God. They will build on our growth, just as we’ve benefited from those who have gone before us. As I reflect on this truth, I think of my grandfather Wesley Hugh Gates, who grew up on a poor, little farm in Oklahoma.

Early one morning when he was about five years old, hammering in his home awakened him. So, my grandfather took his little brother by the hand, and together they walked into the kitchen to find their father building a coffin. My grandfather’s fifteen year-old sister had died in the middle of the night. She had been sick with the measles, and in her weakened condition an infection slipped in and claimed her body: this was the explanation my grandfather would hear years later from her doctor. But not from his family: he heard silence from them. His parents decided that the best way to deal with the tremendous loss was to not talk about it. And they never did. The young woman was buried in an unmarked grave, and that was that.

Of course, my grandfather never stopped feeling the loss of his sister. And through his grief, he chose to live differently. In his twenties, he even returned to look for her grave, somehow found it by sorting through cemetery records, and gave her a tombstone. As a father, he taught my mother that sadness didn’t have to be buried, and talking about feelings was healthy and good. Over the years, a pattern of hiding was dismantled, and in its place healing grew. And here I am, a clinical psychologist who helps others grieve and mourn daily: just two generations removed from that little farm in Oklahoma, and that dusty graveyard where a fifteen year old girl was quietly laid to rest in an unmarked grave.

Healing across generations is moving beyond words, and I have the honor of witnessing it daily in my work: clients who are deciding to live differently, facing great pain with even greater truth and love, and blessing future generations in the process. I see “Dan”, who sought and found sobriety from alcohol and drugs, and in the process broke an addiction cycle of violence and chaos that goes back at least five generations. I see “Joan”, who courageously faced the traumas of physical and sexual abuse from her childhood, and is now practicing intimacy differently with her family members. And I see “Jack”, who can be a spiritual father to dozens of young men because he was able to come to terms with the woundedness of his own father, and forgive him.

Healing and growth in the here-and-now blesses future generations, always has and always will. Brokenness does not have to have the final say. If we cooperate with Him in truth and love, God will redeem the lost years in miraculous ways. Where do you want healing to happen in your family, and what can you do today to start that process?

Lessons from the Waiting Room: The Gift of Presence

Pain, whether emotional or physical in form, has an insidious way of separating us from our support systems, from the core relationships in our lives who give us hope and stability. Like a boat cut away from its moorings, we are apt to drift in our pain, away from the safe harbor of community, away from those who help us bear our burdens, away from a sense of the familiar and normal.

People in pain are not easy to be around, and so our drifting…our isolating…can often be compounded by the reality that some will not want to be around us when we are hurting. Our hurting reminds them that they too hurt, or will hurt…and that’s too much reality for some. But the core relationships in our lives are core precisely because they love us in our pain. They are not afraid of our woundedness, our weakness, our unhappiness, our humanness.

Jen and I spent a lot of days and nights in waiting rooms over the first two years of John-John’s life, waiting to hear news from a doctor or a surgical nurse about the progress or outcome of a surgery or a procedure: “Your son is being prepped right now”, “John Michael’s vitals look good”, “he did just fine”, “we were able to accomplish most of what we’d hoped to do.” The updates were usually very brief, as were the post surgery narratives. Doctors and nurses realize that parents can only take in so much information at times like this, so they keep things very simple.

But waiting for news….often, it felt like days passed before any update would trickle out to the waiting room. And it was during these times that our loved ones would prove invaluable.

During those long days and nights in West Hills/Humana and Cedars-Sinai Hospitals, how did our loved ones most effectively care for us? By being with us. Yes, they did things for us also….cooking us meals, running errands for us, returning phone calls for us, and this was all appreciated. But in the end what mattered most was how they were present to us, particularly in the waiting room.

I think of this when people tell me that they couldn’t visit a friend who was depressed, or who had just suffered a loss, or was struggling with a health issue because they didn't know what to say. Words can be overrated. Showing up, bracketing your anxiety, and being present to one in pain says everything that needs to be said.

I can remember very few words that were spoken to encourage and inspire us during John Michael’s surgeries and recoveries, although many were offered. However, I will never forget snapshots from the waiting room of people being with us: my father reading his newspaper, my sisters and mother drinking coffee, my friend Wendy reading her novel, and my friend Paul praying his rosary. Simple pictures, dozens of them, that comfort me even today. Nothing earth shattering, nothing out of the ordinary; activities that could have been done anywhere in the city, and people wouldn’t have looked twice. But that’s the point. They were doing these common activities while being with us, attuned to us, ready to serve if called upon but not feeling the need to force activity and words on us. It was enough to know they were there; we didn’t need them to do anything else. It was such a personal time, so private and filled with emotion that more would have been less.

Our loved ones were not going to let us drift in our pain. They were not going to allow us to isolate. They kept guard like sentinels, reminding us that we were protected and not alone…we had not been abandoned and forsaken in our hour of great need. They formed the face of God for Jenni and me. Looking back, I see that the waiting room had gently and mystically been transformed into a sanctuary…a safe place for the weary and frightened to rest and find God.
Having others with me in my pain and anxiety didn’t lessen the suffering, but their presence did place my suffering in the larger context of Love, and remind me again that He always provides a harbor in the midst of the storm.

Who in your life needs this gift of presence…your presence? Don’t worry about finding the right words. Your willingness to “suit up and show up” will say enough.

Redefining Disability

“Come, my friends,
’tis not too late to seek a newer world.”
-Alfred, Lord Tennyson


Most special needs children will eventually reach major developmental milestones, they just reach them later than typically developing children. Our son John Michael has proven to be no exception. He crawled later, walked later, talked later, and potty-trained later. I have learned to accept the fact that there is no developmental schedule for John Michael, and celebrate his achievements whenever they come. However, this was much more difficult for me in the first few years of his life.

When John Michael was about 20 months old, Jen and I took him to our Godson’s second birthday party. There, we found ourselves surrounded by “normal” children, who took little or no notice of our little boy. These children were running after each other, playing tag, kicking a rubber ball around, and climbing on play equipment. Jenni had put John-John down in a corner of the yard that wasn’t too busy with activity, near a table of parents, so that he could practice his crawling without getting hurt. As I watched my son smiling in the bright January sunlight, oblivious to the fact that he couldn’t do what the other kids were doing, I became aware that two mothers were watching John-John. As I debated whether or not to go over and introduce myself, I overheard one ask the other, “Is he the retarded one?” I was hurt, and confused about what to do or say, so I just went over and picked John-John up and carried him inside. The woman obviously didn’t realize I was John Michael’s father when she asked the question, and I’m sure she didn’t mean to be cruel. The reality is that Down Syndrome children do stand out. They look different, and behave differently. Their motor skills are not as developed and they process information more slowly than the average child. To one who has not gotten close to a child like John Michael, it is easy to categorize him as “retarded” or “disabled.”

We as a culture all too often define giftedness and intelligence in very narrow terms. What is his I.Q.? What are her grades? How well did he do on his SAT’s? Which colleges was she accepted to? We reduce human beings to isolated functions, and loose humanity in the process. Think of the teaching moments that are squandered, the celebrations missed, the number of children that grow up feeling “stupid”, and the parents that can’t see their children’s God-given abilities because of a set of test scores or a cumulative G.P.A.

In my doctoral studies in clinical psychology, I had neither been offered nor had I sought out any classes on special education. Why bother? I wanted to work with people who could understand, and grow, and change, and lead productive lives. I was glad there were good souls who dedicated their lives to serving mentally handicapped people, but I saw them more as babysitters than anything else. Then John Michael arrived.

An acquaintance who had heard that my son had been born with Down Syndrome introduced me to the work of Dr. Howard Gardner, a professor at Harvard University and the father of Multiple Intelligence theory. Gardner’s thesis is that society in general asks how smart is the child, when it should be asking how is the child smart. The difference is subtle but profound. Gardner goes on to suggest that there are at least eight ways a person can be smart, and that all of us are smart in several ways to greater or lesser extents. His categories of intelligence include: interpersonal, intrapersonal, musical, bodily-kinesthetic, spatial, mathematical, verbal, and naturalist.

Of course, now I don’t need a theory of intelligence to tell me my son is gifted and has a great deal to offer the world, after fifteen years of learning about him and from him. Today, if I had the opportunity to speak with the woman from the party, I would share with her why “retarded” doesn’t describe John Michael; his ability to relate to others with unconditional love, his sense of humor, his goodness, his joyful approach to life, and his willingness to forgive others before they ask for his forgiveness. Or better yet, I’d invite her to sit on the grass with him and let him give her butterfly kisses, or let him take her by the hand and show her the best hiding places in the garden, or just have her hold him in her lap and bask in his warmth. John-John has a way of communicating that is very persuasive.

“Is he the retarded one?” I actually smile now when I hear the question asked in my mind. My son lives in a perpetual state of grace, and enjoys more peace and happiness in any given week than most adults have experienced in a lifetime. Retarded? Only if you understand giftedness, and people, and life in very restricted ways.

For Mike...

Twelve years ago this coming Sunday the world lost a truly good man, and I lost one of my dearest friends. My father-in-law Mike Somdal died of a heart attack. He was 53 years-old. I still think of him often; his sharp mind, his goofy sense of humor, his (well, let’s say bold) sense of style, and his huge spirit. He serves as a model for what I mean when I talk about Virtue Therapy: growing and healing by doing little acts of goodness again, and again, and again.

Aristotle put it this way: “Excellence is a habit, not an act.” People can talk and feel until they’re blue in the face, but if it doesn’t translate into purposeful action, if people don’t MOVE on their insights and self-knowledge, no lasting change is going to happen. Mike got this. He took advantage of the host of opportunities that present themselves daily to all of us, and did the little things…with great love, great attention to detail, and great humility. Mike had many admirable qualities, but here I want to focus on his generosity….and a particular evening I’ll never forget.

It was his birthday party, and Mike adored his birthday. He loved the chance to be the self-appointed director of fun and laughter, as it was officially his day. His family had gathered around him to celebrate, and although Mike and I shared the same birthday month I never imagined being in the evening’s spotlight with him. I had just begun dating Jenni and was just glad to be included. However, when his birthday cake was brought out, it read “Happy Birthday Mike and Ross.” Grinning from ear to ear, he also insisted that everyone sing “Happy Birthday” to the both of us. Not that big a deal? Put yourself in his shoes for a moment. Some young kid comes into your only daughter’s life and after only a few months displaces you as her most significant man. No twinge of jealousy? No concern that maybe things were moving faster than they should? No temptation to subtly remind the young man that his place was one notch down in the pecking order? Mike could have felt any of those emotions and it would have been perfectly normal, but if he did he kept them completely hidden. I believe the thought never even crossed his mind, because my father-in-law had already been practicing generosity for years. In little and big ways he had been giving with joy, and not counting the cost. It had become second nature to him, and he was genuinely pleased to be able to welcome me into his family, even if it meant that he had to move to the side just a little. For Mike, this was just one more little opportunity to be generous. Yet, I’m still feeling blessed by it nearly twenty-two years later.

It helps to have an example of the virtue you wish to acquire, to picture and emulate as you work toward the goal. When I think of generosity, I think of my father-in-law. His grave marker reads: “His was a rare and brilliant life.” Truer words have never been spoken. I love you Mike.

"What Map am I looking at?"

“What map am I looking at?”


Is this Los Angeles?
Have you ever seen an old map of a place you’re familiar with? The other day I looked at downtown Los Angeles from the perspective of a map made in 1909. The mapmaker, a gentleman named Worthington Gates, had done a beautiful job charting out the streets, and I’m sure he was quite accurate in his calculations and identifications. But how helpful would this map be for me today, if I wanted to get from the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels to the 5 Freeway, or figure out the fastest route from my lunch meeting on Grand Avenue to a 1:00 appointment on 6th Street? Obviously, not too helpful; Worthington Gates’ Los Angeles has grown some. The San Gabriel Mountains still stand in the distance, and the Pacific Ocean shimmers to the west, but roads have been erased, broadened, or renamed. Freeways have been built, sky-scrapers erected, and millions of people have moved in. I need a recently updated Thomas Brothers Guide or a print out from Mapquest.com to find the directions that will help me get from one part of town to another. O.K. fine, but what does this have to do with marriage?
Have you ever found yourself in a conversation with your spouse, and had things take an unexpected turn? You’ve found yourself on either the giving or the receiving end of an emotional meltdown, and found yourself wondering what just happened. A seemingly innocuous discussion about where to go on vacation, or how much money to spend on a car, or what color to paint the kitchen devolves into tears, or shouting, or an icy stare. The feelings are disproportionate, much stronger than the given context would normally call for. You can almost imagine yourself saying, “This territory is vaguely familiar, but I think we made a wrong turn somewhere?”
Home is where one starts from, and by home I mean much more than the physical structure you grew up in. The home you were born into, your family-of-origin, was your first experience of community. This has influenced you in ways you may not fully recognize, and still does. Your family, starting with your mother and father, created a psychological map for you that showed you how to navigate your way through relationships. With this map you learned how to love and like, hope and dream, fear and fight. You watched your family interact, and you experienced the ways they related to you, and the learning went deep. When you entered into your marriage, you brought with you this map of relating, and it will re-appear from time to time seemingly out of nowhere, bringing with it the old ways and the old pain. Tone of voice, certain physical characteristics, particular subjects, and personality traits can all be triggers that summon the past and link it powerfully to the present.
A woman whose father cheated on her mother may be overly suspicious of her own husband, when he innocently visits with an attractive female at a party. A man who had a controlling mother may bristle whenever his wife asks him to go a little out of his way to do something for her. A couple that came from emotionally violent families fears conflict, and chooses instead to hide anger behind chronic over-activity. Confusion reigns, and opportunities for bonding and growing as both individuals and as partners are missed. The process of leaving mother and father (and your original family), and being joined to your spouse in marriage is much more complicated than simply changing addresses!

Same feelings, different family
At one time, the map your family-of-origin gave you might have worked reasonably well. But, the terrain has changed, you have changed, and your role has changed. You are no longer a child of six, or ten, or fourteen. You no longer need to get your mother’s permission to stay out late, or hide feelings your father wasn’t comfortable with, or worry about being punished if conflict breaks out. You are an adult, with much more freedom to choose now, and you are a spouse who is part of the core of a new family. Becoming “one” with your partner demands that together, you figure out ways of being in relationship that fit for you now. You may choose to adopt some of what worked in your original family, and decide to reject other parts. This is not your parents’ marriage, and it’s not your parents’ home. But choice is seldom an unpolluted, simple process, and we don’t always act like free adults. In times of stress, conflict, and anxiety, we can get confused about whom we’re relating to, and what home we’re living in, and what our role is. And just like trying to find your way around present day Los Angeles with a map from 1909, you can get very lost.
We marry the person who can potentially help us complete the emotional work we began with our family of origin. We don’t fully grasp this potential at the time of marriage because we don’t typically know our selves or our spouses well enough, but this doesn’t change the fact that the gift of healing was there from the start. I say potentially because you and your spouse still need to cooperate with God’s plan in order to finish growing up, and this is by no means an easy task. Trusting another and being vulnerable takes time in even the best of circumstances, and distinguishing between childhood maps and current ones is much harder than it sounds. To further complicate matters, as years go by and the marriage takes hits, it can be more and more difficult to be open, and stay open, to your partner. Naturally, when pain begins to build, the human instinct is to revert back to what you knew best, and what you knew first…your original map for relationships. The heart can become hardened, and the directions for compatibility confused.
However, this map does not have to control you. Just like the mapmaker Worthington Gates would do if he were asked to design a map of downtown Los Angeles today, you can make changes to your map and update the information. Here are 5 practical suggestions that can help:

1) Play time: Set aside quality time each week to spend together, nurturing your friendship, having fun, and exploring the mystery of the other

2) Tracking device: Check in with each other throughout the day, to simply communicate care, concern, and interest

3) Empathy: Seek understanding before agreement (if one feels truly heard, seen, and respected good typically follows!)

4) Fighting fair: Avoid threats and hurtful words, be clear with each other about what the issue is, own your share of the problem, and seek a compromise that honors the relationship

5) Know your limits: Be open to strategic counsel from a therapist, a minister, or a rabbi if problems persist

The goal is not to avoid the past, an impossible task, but rather to minimize the confusion and pain, and maximize the learning.

Choosing Life in a Culture of Death

There are people in your position: Choosing life in a culture of death

“The most beautiful credo is the one we pronounce in our hour of darkness.”-St. Padre Pio


The day before John Michael’s valveoplasty procedure, Jen and I met with the cardiologist who would be overseeing the operation. He explained how the surgeons planned to run a balloon through John John’s three day-old heart, his mitral valve specifically, in the hope of opening it up and allowing oxygen to flow freely. The hole that also existed in our son’s heart could wait until later to be dealt with, but not the valve. The doctor told us that without this procedure our son would slowly but surely die, maybe a month, maybe a year. Then he said something we were unprepared for; “There are people in your position who would elect not to go through with this procedure.” I want to believe he was saying this because we live in a society that sues doctors. I want to believe he was thinking about informed consent, that parents must be apprised of all their options before making a life or death decision about their child. He must have noticed the shock in our faces, because he quickly added, “I know what your answer is going to be, but I needed to say that.” Our response was brief, “Save our baby.”
I’ve had 15 years to reflect on that exchange, 15 years to think of all the parents who hear similar words from doctors and in their fear see a quick out, 15 years to think about all the doctors who can’t or won’t uphold the first rule of the Hippocratic oath, “Do no harm.” And I have had 15 years to consider the society we live in…where the sanctity of life is slowly being eclipsed by a culture of death.
All of human life is sacred. There is no statistical table to help one compute whose life is valuable and whose is not in Christendom. Maybe one could find such a thing in the health insurance industry, but not within the bounds of an authentically Christian worldview. There is no need. Our Creator has spoken very clearly about this. Health, age, nationality, socio-economic status, race, religion, education, and I.Q. are not even considered factors in God’s eyes in determining sacredness. The imprint of the Image of God on our eternal souls (Genesis 1:27) and the love and delight He has for his children are what bestow us with dignity and value beyond calculation. “Truly, you have formed my inmost being; you knit me in my mother’s womb. I give you thanks, O God, that I am fearfully and wonderfully made; wonderful are your works. My soul also knew you full well” (Psalm 139: 13-14). And if God’s loving us and relating to us before we were even born is not enough to demonstrate our intrinsic worth, His Son’s willingness to live among us, and die for us, adds the final exclamation point to this issue. God didn’t make a mistake with John Michael, a mistake that needed to be corrected or erased by science. He doesn’t make mistakes with any babies. He knows exactly what He is doing, always. Carl Sandburg once wrote, “A baby is God’s opinion that the world should go on.” Babies represent new beginnings, and holy innocence, and precious hope; I shudder to think of a world void of these elements. We desperately need to be reminded by babies, especially babies like John Michael, that the sacred is not skin deep.
There have always been those who preferred death to life; defiled the sacred and attacked the Good. But the 20th century, on a scale never before seen, overwhelmed our collective senses with its unique combination of unrelenting violence and technological brilliance. This was the century that gave us Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin, the atomic bomb and biological warfare. It is the century that introduced the word terrorism into our everyday vocabulary, and gave us legalized abortion and euthanasia. And it is the century that invented the radio and the telephone, television and the Internet. It has provided us with enough unfiltered information and visual images to last us ten lifetimes. In an effort to survive this assault on the human psyche, I think many have chosen to numb themselves to core issues of life and death…but at such a cost. We live in a global community that, paradoxically, has never been farther apart. Data is too often confused with wisdom, and contact with intimacy. So much upheaval, and change, and innovation, but have we really progressed all that far? Einstein put it this way: “We have perfected the means, but confused the ends.” The ultimate end is to love God, neighbor, and self more and more completely…and as a human race, I am doubtful that we are moving in this direction. I believe that the exchange Jenni and I had with the cardiologist 15 years ago is even more likely to happen today.
Babies like John Michael are more expendable than ever before. Special needs children are simply not easy, and productive, and cost effective in immediately quantifiable ways…not in a culture that is being blanketed more and more by the shroud of death. Dozens of people have shared with us that they don’t think they would have, or could have, given the cardiologist the go-ahead to perform the valveoplasty. They would have let their child die. Almost always, their reasons revolve around their own fears about being strong enough to rear a special needs child. The mistake made by people who could not see themselves rising to the occasion, or more accurately accepting the gift God gives them, is that they are not factoring grace into the equation. They are only seeing how far their will power can take them in a world that can be quite overwhelming in the amount of pain and unhappiness it dishes out. People who live outside of God’s grace, try to go it alone, should be afraid. They’re going to get pummeled.
Even with grace, life is difficult! There are days where I am beyond fatigued, and very unsure that I have what it takes to be an adequate father for any of my children, not just for John Michael. Parenting is a very humbling endeavor. I am tempted to run off and hide somewhere, to chuck my responsibilities, to let others take over. I have heard many excellent parents admit similar moments of weakness. This is residue of our creatureliness, our falleness, our brokenness, but not cause for despair. St. Augustine saw these moments where our true poverty breaks through as blessed because of what they clarify for us about our nature, and God’s. “Felix culpa”, the “blessed fault” that is original sin, is blessed because it reminds us that we cannot live life on our own terms and be successful in a meaningful way…and we’re not supposed to. Living in grace, and not fear, begins with an honest admission of need. “Lord, help me, hear my cry, save me from death in all its forms…”
There are people who choose death over life every day…with babies, with work, with alcohol and drugs, with violence; sometimes they are conscious of what they are choosing, sometimes they are not. “This day I call heaven and earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live and that you may love the Lord your God, listen to His voice, and hold fast to Him” (Deuteronomy 30:19-20).
We’ve never needed special needs babies, special needs children, and special needs adults more…they are our wake-up calls, and our consciences, reminding us of what life and blessings really look like.

Who we are

The same month Jenni and I founded Stillpoint Resources, I planted an apple tree in our backyard; two living organisms, small and fragile but full of potential. That was eleven years ago. Just last week as I was admiring our now sprawling tree, it dawned on me how the growth pattern of Stillpoint has mirrored my now fully developed apple tree: a deep root structure, a wider reach of the branches, and an increasing bounty of good fruit.

Roots:
Stillpoint was born out of a love for special needs children and their families, and this commitment to the most vulnerable members of our society will always remain a precious part of our mission. But as we have developed our concept of special needs has grown to include more than those with medical needs: a splintering marriage brings special needs, poverty brings special needs, depression and the threat of suicide bring special needs, substance abuse and domestic violence brings special needs. And in order to birth the greatest change, the most lasting change, the goal must not be individual healing alone, but family healing. Thus, special needs families have naturally become our focus. And because we have clinicians who specialize in counseling children, teens, adults, couples, and entire families, we are uniquely prepared to offer healing and hope at every level of the system.

Reach:
Eleven years ago we had one office in Woodland Hills, but as the demands for our services grew we strategically placed satellite offices in Ojai, Thousand Oaks, Pacoima, San Marino, Westchester, Hawaiian Gardens, Costa Mesa, and at Children’s Hospital in Los Angeles. Even more importantly, we have eleven wonderfully gifted clinicians counseling at these sites so that people in great need from all around Southern California can access excellent care. And to assure that our reach is truly inclusive we have maintained our commitment to offering 70% of our clinical hours at sliding scale rates so that money is not the deciding factor in whether people in great need receive the help they are so desperate for. No one should be left behind.

Fruit:
We are making a significant difference for the good through our counseling efforts, working with over 150 families every week. And we cannot mention counseling without addressing our training program. We are very proud of the fact that our trainees and interns (currently at eight) are not just being supervised, they’re being mentored and cared for. Becoming an outstanding clinician is about so much more than simply learning a skill set…its about formation: formation of minds, and formation of hearts. Our goal is to not simply impact our clients, but to impact the culture they live in, and the psychological world that holds so much sway.
Our educational outreach through our Speakers’ Bureau offers dozens of community workshops every year on topics like parenting, marriage, self-care, and grief. Additionally, we have established a publishing arm, where articles are written, and to date three books have been produced. And now this blog, which will offer entries aimed at teaching and encouraging readers, psychologically and spiritually.
Our four-pronged approach to healing and hope (counseling, training, educating, and publishing) gives us the opportunity to impact hundreds of people every month. And this impact will surely grow in the years to come, based on the trajectory of our first eleven years.
I am honored to be part of this profoundly meaningful work that literally changes lives, and I’m most grateful to all those who help us do this work through generous donations of time, talent, and treasure. But as we grow the need for greater community support grows as well. Please consider us when you pray, when you think about trustworthy counselors to refer a friend or family member to, and when you make a contribution to a non-profit charity.
I thank you for your interest, and hope this blog will prove helpful and encouraging to you in the weeks, months, and years to come.