A line I’ve come back to over and over again through the years: “We blossom and flourish as leaves on the tree, and wither and perish but naught changeth Thee.” I hope someone puts it on my headstone.

I’m learning that having emotional and spiritual maturity at one stage in your life doesn’t necessarily mean you will carry it with you to the next.

I’m in a very different place than I thought I would be: A little ELCA church that’s just kind of quietly doing its own thing. Nothing all that exciting. Just an hour each week, with a little bit of charitable giving on the side. I’m not trying to get too involved.

Yes. That’s the side I didn’t mention. That uplifting energy quickly wanes after I get home, and I find myself returning to a feeling of “Eh. Why bother?”

I don’t remember much from grade school, but in 7th-12th I did history projects on the Buffalo Soldiers, Dred Scott, Harry Truman, George Washington Carver, and William Henry Jackson.

Every Sunday morning, I dread going to church. But then I go. And I find that nothing energizes me, sparks reflection, and motivates my imagination quite like worship does. It really is a blessing.

Honestly, I think a combination of going to therapy regularly and spending time praying the Daily Office makes spiritual direction kind of superfluous, another unnecessary hurdle. But then again, I have no authority in the church whatsoever, so I’m not privy to the rationales of the institution.

Yeah, that’s been my experience, too. In our diocese it’s actually required for discernment, if I remember correctly. It’s fine, I guess, but it’s never really been my cup of tea. I’ve found it to be less helpful than therapy, because at least therapists will occasionally offer practical advice.

Wounded folks often make some of the best healers.

Same. I’ve had spiritual directors who were incredibly kind, sensitive, and thoughtful people. But never gave me much “direction” at all.