So what did you do today, reverendmother?

Let’s see, this morning we had a staff meeting, and towards the end of it, a member of the church called with an urgent matter. My senior pastor ended up going home sick, so I had to take care of the crisis. Boy howdy.

Oh?

I don’t want to say too much about it. Actually, I do want to say a lot about it, but I cannot and should not. Suffice it to say there is a family that’s hurting, bad. There are many angles to it. And part of me wishes like anything that the senior pastor had been well today. If she had, this would have been her task.

'Cause this one was like walking a tightrope without a net—no, that’s wrong. Walking, I’m happy to walk. No, this one is like coaching someone else, walking a thin, taut line with nothing but abyss underneath. What do you say? What do you do? Choose your words carefully, no sudden movements, or they’ll break concentration. They'll convince themselves they liked it better crouched on that cramped little platform and want to turn back. They'll decide they don't have it in them to complete this treacherous walk. They will look down.

So, it’s scary crazy vertigo all around. In seminary, between learning the Greek subjunctive mood, and critiquing Abelard’s theory of the atonement, we should have learned how to handle doozies like these. I didn’t.

At the same time…

Yes?

At the same time, there are parts of my family story that make me uniquely qualified to speak to this person, in a way that my senior pastor is not. I can talk to the person because I have been there, I speak the language, and I know the geography. And when I come to unfamiliar terrain, I know the keepers of the maps. I called them today, so many of them. In my distress I called and they heard me.

So perhaps it was as it should be.

Isn’t it interesting how that works?

Yes. But wait, “qualified” is not really the right word. You’re never qualified for this. You just show up, listen, tell the truth, and let go of the outcome. And you hope you made things better, but damn, you really just hope you didn’t make things worse.

Trust, my friend. And go get some sleep. There is more to be done tomorrow.