Grasping for Spoons

Allow me to address the giant polka-dotted elephant in the room. It has been months since I’ve written a post.

“David,” you say, “didn’t you say you were excited about writing even MORE this year?”

Yes. Yes, I did.

“But you have hardly written at all,” you say.

That is correct.

I feel as though this explanation should start, “You see, what happened was…” Unfortunately, I do not have some complicated story or cool excuse for why I have been incommunicado. The truth is that practicum has been drastically more demanding and exhausting than I expected.

A writer named Christine Miserandino came up with a way of explaining the daily experience of a person with a chronic illness or disability called Spoon Theory (Click here to read her explanation). I strongly recommend reading Christine’s explanation. However, I will share the bottom line. People with chronic illnesses and disabilities are often required to carefully plan out everything they do to try and ensure they have enough energy to make it through the day. She uses spoons as a tactile reminder of our limited resources.

Those of us with limited “spoons” frequently find ourselves running out well before the to-do list runs out. I have found myself grasping for “spoons” this semester. There have been days I come home with barely enough energy to eat and talk to my children before bed.

This weekend, I presented a workshop at a conference on the experience of mental health graduate students with disabilities. I had a unique opportunity to speak directly to university administrators and supervisors in the counseling field about what research and my own experience have to say about being more culturally competent.

It was encouraging to see the overwhelmingly positive response, and it left me exhausted. Today is the first day in a week I have had the energy to move, think, or do something solely for myself. I went to the gym, put my dance shoes on, and practiced for an hour.

When I came home, I realized no deadlines, major projects, papers, or presentations were hanging over my head. What I did have was an internal desire, a pressure or itch, to get something out in writing.

While this post is little more than a check-in, it proves that a writer’s desire, drive, and nature still churn within me. I just need the spoons to let it out. I hope the coming semesters will provide more opportunities to reengage with my writing habits. Still, if not, I hope you will be patient and understanding with my inconsistent scheduling.

May all your challenges fall like chaff before the flame and the harvest of your efforts be plentiful.

Doc Reece

You are still so young. You don’t think so. You are looking adulthood in the face and praying you don’t blink first.

I recognized the anxiety in your eyes when you asked me, “Should I go to college?”

First, who decided there was one magic age when people “become adults”? Who thought up the idea of a magic date where every life decision is suddenly up to you? It seems like a bad idea to me.

Did you know that isn’t how it always was?

Once upon a time, there were traditions, rituals, and a process that a man or woman had to walk through before becoming an adult. Fathers taught their sons, and mothers taught their daughters how to be men and women of character, ethics, and integrity.

Becoming an adult was a process that you were walked through in the company of a community. In fact, becoming an adult meant joining that community as a contributing member. Parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts, and family friends were not simply resources you could reach out to. They were active partners with you in engaging this time of transition.

Whatever made us think one birthday made the difference?

But you asked me about college.

First, let me clarify that I am in no position to tell you what to do with your life. I know things seem overwhelming, and knowing exactly how you want life to go seems impossible.

I can’t give you answers because I’m still figuring it out myself.

What I can do is tell you a story.

I went to Johnson Bible College at twenty-two years old. I made friends and lost some, made some good decisions and some bad ones, and grew immensely. Johnson was a small college on the outskirts of Knoxville. One of the best parts of Johnson was the tight-knit community. You could know your professors personally and spend time with them outside of class. They knew you by name and remembered you from class to class.

One such man was Dr. David Reece or Doc Reece.

Doc taught Old and New Testament classes with passion, insight, wisdom, humility, and humor. He was a master wordsmith and artisan at his craft, but more than anything, he was an incredible man of God.

I spent hours sitting in his office. I would share what I had going on in my life, and he would share what was going on in his. He was real, present, engaged, and full of life and love.

During one class on Old Testament poetry, he had us write poems for an assignment. After class, he asked if I would be willing to present mine to the class. Later, he would give me the opportunity to present something in another class I wasn’t even in. This wasn’t a testament to my advanced skill or ability; it was a testament to his willingness to invest in the lives of his students.

Doc was my role model and a spiritual father figure, and he played a major formative role in my life.

Years later, life had not gone as planned. I struggled to move forward in the work I wanted to do, and the seizure episodes had started. I had written and self-published a very small book and could not think of anyone I wanted to share it with more than Doc.

I will never forget his enthusiasm for the book. He had me sign it so that when I became “famous,” it would be worth something.

Let me be clear; I can look back at that book today and cringe at some of the writing. Doc was pouring into me what I needed. Then, when I talked to him about the church I was serving at, he looked me in the eye and took on a serious tone.

“David, are you sure you aren’t a big fish in a little pond?”

I grew up with such pitiful self-confidence that the concept blue-screened my brain. Doc was asking me if I was limiting myself by staying in a position that was neither fully utilizing nor appreciating my abilities. I couldn’t truly receive his message or insight at the time. To this day, I sincerely wish I had grown up quicker, gained wisdom faster, and done something worthy of his faith in me.

Doc finished his race and received the crown of life he had run towards so long. His passing left me feeling like an anchor in my life had been cut loose. I learned quickly that many, many people felt the same way. Doc Reece was an incredible man of God who left the imprint of God on the lives of thousands.

What does this have to do with college?

Many voices are striving for your attention. Many “influencers” desperately long to shape and mold your future. Some do so with “your good” in mind; most see only their own potential gain.

Colleges are the same way.

If you decide to pursue a career requiring a college education, choose carefully whom you let pour into your life. Becoming an adult is difficult, and the anxiety leaves you vulnerable and easily influenced; don’t let the wrong “influencers” steal your attention.

If you find someone with half the passion, integrity, character, and love of Doc, do whatever it takes to lean into that relationship and take advantage of every second of it you can. I grieve not one moment of my time with Doc, only the time I spent disconnected from him after graduation.

Whether trade school, college, or apprenticeship, find a community committed to partnering with you as you learn how to grow up. Life will come at you hard, and things will change and shift around you. Don’t take people for granted. Love them and listen to them while you can; it just might make all the difference.

Step by Step

I was double-checking that I had finished the requirements for my orientation. I opened the university’s online portal and saw a new link prominently displayed in the main toolbar. Classes start on Monday and the first of my three professors had just opened the link to his class.

I eagerly clicked the link, found the syllabus, and started reading. A very ambitious semester packed the document with assignments, forums, papers, and requirements. Words and phrases I feel only tangentially familiar with loomed prominent, and the sheer amount of work felt like a punch.

Anxiety settled into the pit of my stomach as the realization that this was only one of three classes sank in. There will be no easing into this semester.

I am familiar with this anxiety. Any time I am set to try something particularly new or outside of my norm I am flooded with anxiety. Even when I am confident that the task will be easily navigated my stomach twists and knots until I am well and truly in the middle of doing the task.

I know that this semester will be a challenge. The workload will be significant, and it will take serious adjustments to my regular habits and routines to accommodate the load. I will not always be successful at this, but I am sure that I will accomplish what needs to be done.

Still, there is that lead weight of anxiety hanging in my gut. I am eager to get started so that I can forget my anxiety in the process of simply doing the task.

I did realize something while reading over the course requirements. As I read the reading expectations due to be completed by Monday, I noticed that I have been tasked with familiarizing myself with the topics and themes of the last two years’ worth of a specific journal’s articles, reading half of a book, and two separate articles in full.

It rather suddenly occurred to me that maintaining an article a day on this site might be overly ambitious. While I do not plan on giving up that goal yet, I want to be honest about the reality that the frequency may drop or become inconsistent while I am adjusting to new routines.

Too often, when we look at the big picture, things seem too big and overwhelming. We feel dwarfed by circumstances beyond our control and can become crippled by anxiety. I believe this is the beautiful genius of Jesus’ words in Matthew 6:34, “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” (Matthew 6:34 ESV – Bible Gateway)

We function best when we focus on what each day brings. Trying to account for days ahead causes anxiety and worry that we can not truly satisfy because we do not know what the future holds. Rather, God gives us grace sufficient for each day (Lamentations 3:22-24 ESV – Bible Gateway).

We do our best walking when it is step by step.

When I was a young teenager running around the Appalachian woods with my brother and best friend we would often come across ravines and creeks that we wanted to cross. I would fastidiously find and feel-out each foothold as I stepped from rock to rock or outcropping to outcropping.

Yes, I needed a plan for getting across. I would scan the creek bed and identify an area with rocks close enough to use to cross and I would assess the overall safety of the spot. After the initial assessment, I put my full attention on each step. Every time you looked several steps ahead the rock you were on would tilt, shift, or wobble and threaten to deposit you in the icy mountain water.

This semester each assignment is one step, one rock that must be worried about in its own time. I will do my best to follow the plan (syllabus) but my attention will be on each step of the process. That includes actively pursuing balance in the rest of my life.

Thankfully, anxiety is often lost in the process and God shows himself faithful at every step.

If your life is beginning to look like the syllabus of my class, overloaded and overwhelming, remember that all you must answer for is accomplishing the next correct step in the process. You don’t have to cross the chasm in one running leap, just take it step by step.

Johnson

Seventeen years ago, I stepped onto campus for my first semester of college. There were stately brick buildings nestled in the foothills of the Great Smokey Mountains and lushly decorated with rows of mature oaks and a picturesque pond. Despite the students walking, playing, and hanging out on all the corners and quietude and a sense of peace hovered over the campus.

All these years later and it still feels much the same. There are more buildings, more students, and signs of more technology, but still a hovering sense of peace.

I like it here.

I have been on campus attending various meetings as I go through the process of rejoining the Clinical Mental Health Counseling master’s program. Everyone is nice. They smile and nod, wish you a good day, or even engage in small talk. Here I am remembered. Students I briefly met two years ago strike up memories of our time, and professors recognize me with a warm fondness.

In a very real way, coming back to my Alma Mater feels like visiting family. Some of the people here have known me throughout my entire adult life. There is no judgment, only acceptance, compassion, and optimism.

I really like it here.

As I walk the familiar paths, I pass droves of kids. My mind can hardly reckon with the reality that once I was one of those kids. They all seem too young to be away from home, too new to face the world. Meanwhile, they ask me if I am one of the teachers or a staff member and I feel a little older each time.

Still, they are open, friendly, and inquisitive about my program, my experiences, and my life.

You don’t have to work hard to make friends in this community.

Sometimes I wonder if this is a little bit of what heaven will be like, just with fewer term papers and tests. A warm, loving family. A place where people remember you and are glad to meet you and interested in you. A place of hope and optimism.

Did I mention I like it here? A lot?

I have an interview for the program in a couple of weeks and if all goes well, I should be starting school in January. This will bring a whole new world of challenges, stresses, and blessings. I can not wait. I am joyful about the prospect of being back with my kids on a permanent basis, I am excited about the learning, and I am excited to be making progress in life in general.

An old professor of mine said, “With God, the shortest path between two points is a zigzag”.

The past three years have been one whirlwind of a zigzag for me. At times I have felt like I was just barely hanging on. Sometimes it is difficult to see your progress until you have something to compare it to. As I go through the familiar process of answering interview questions, writing essays, and attending meetings I keep looking at how much growth I have experienced.

I have attained a sharper focus, greater optimism, a stronger sense of purpose and drive, and far greater self-awareness and understanding. While I have felt stagnant over the past couple of years because I could not see the progress I have grown immensely.

Sometimes life is too chaotic and busy to see your own progress. Don’t lose heart. Hang in there because eventually, you will hit that straight stretch where you can look back and see exactly how much ground you’ve covered.

I am excited to start this next chapter of my life. I believe that moment is coming for you as well, just hold on a while longer.

Math-mare

I was starting my first day back at university. I walked I not a packed classroom with nervous excitement and scanned the room. The small desks were full of students half my age and the only people in the room I knew were my brother and the professor.

The first thing my professor did was hand out a packet of work that needed to be done in the few minutes before class truly got started. I took the sheets of paper and glanced down.

Long sets of numbers, dashes, graphs, and symbols marched across the stark white sheets. My mind went blank, and my heart sank. Math.

I frantically tried to make sense of the problems in front of me but the more I struggled to decipher the work the less sense it all made. Students all around me were handing the papers back in and I began to panic. Then the professor dismissed me from the rest of the class to go and finish the “homework” while the rest of the class continued with the day’s lecture.

I retreated to my dorm room and curled into a ball on my bed. I stared at the sheaf of papers, twice the size that they had been. If I didn’t get them finished before class was done, I would get a failing grade. I was near tears.

In just a couple of minutes the class was dismissed and the students each came through my room and laughed at the difficulty I was having. I fled.

I ran to one of the offices where I knew a staff member. Handing her the workbook full of problems I asked if there was anything she could do to help. She solemnly flipped through a few pages and looked up at me, “I think I better print you off a brackish water map.”

She went on to explain that they were only allowed to do this up to three times a year before April and, strictly speaking, she wasn’t supposed to do this for me. I couldn’t wrap my mind around how that was supposed to help but was hopeful that someone was doing something.

In short order, she had the reem of papers I had brought her on the floor with stacks of other paperwork. She had misplaced them and was looking through the stacks looking for my homework.

At that moment another professor I haven’t seen in a while came in. She looked me up and down and said, “David.”

I smiled and said, “Hello Dr. Saylor. How are you?”

She raised an eyebrow and barely responded. Of all the professors I had most recently studied under Dr. Saylor was one of the most caring and influential to me. More than most others I wanted her to be proud of the work I had done on me and be happy to see me back at university. Here she stood, completely unimpressed and uninterested.

My eyes snapped open, and it took a few moments for my heart to slow down and the adrenaline to seep out of my system. I had just had a nightmare about math… seriously?

If you hadn’t guessed, I am no mathematician. In fact, it wasn’t until college the first time around that anyone was able to explain math in such a way that it made sense to me. A math class in elementary school was the only class I have ever failed.

I do not like math.

I am back at Johnson University, my alma mater. I have a few meetings over the next couple of days regarding my return to the master’s program. Last night I took a brisk walk around campus feeling refreshed, excited, and confident. I have grown and healed so much since the last time I was here, and I am excited about the prospect of returning.

I woke from that dream with every ounce of confidence drained from me like a punctured water balloon.

While the nightmare about math is a first, and rather humorous, the anxiety and fears over not measuring up, not being enough, and people not caring about me are nothing new. These are insecurities I have carried with me since I was a child.

It is amazing how difficult it is to let go of old baggage.

The good news is that fears are just like shadows. They flicker, dance, and thrive in the dark corners of our minds. They threaten unknown dangers that are always just around the corner. Yet, shadows are only noticed when we take our eyes off the light. Then we can see the small things basking in the light that we missed when we focused on the shadow it cast.

The truth is that many people in my life care about me. I can address the tasks put in front of me and I am not defined or crippled by my weaknesses. The truth is that the biggest scariest shadow still can’t touch me and only testifies to the presence of light in my life.

God is good. The shadows in your life are proof that there is a great light present and working. The trick is to shift your focus from the dancing shadows to the light and the truths revealed in it.

Don’t give in to fears, worries, or anxiety. Always push back with the light of truth.

You’ve got this and, you know what, I think I do too.

Returning

I have been working on the admissions essay required for reapplying to the counseling program I want to return to. The prompt requested a 2-3 page essay explaining how the university’s and program’s specifics matched with my own professional goals in light of my personal, spiritual, and professional background.

I expected the essay to be an easy one to write, after all, I have already been accepted once and am returning after a forced two-year break. What I didn’t expect was how deeply personal, insightful, and ultimately difficult it was to write.

Knowing what to say was less difficult than figuring out how to say something so very personal in an acceptably academic manner. I do not know how well I accomplished that goal, but I eventually decided to be transparently-me and allow them to take me or leave me as I am.

The resulting essay is a mix of prompted-response peppered with raw me, and it is that aspect of it that has led me to share it here. This essay represents a major step forward in my life from struggling with overwhelming circumstances to overcoming and returning to living once more.

I hope you find similar inspiration in these words or at least some insight into my own story.

I felt my body shutting down. Walking across the house caused a struggle to breathe, muscles randomly gave out, and my body ached from frequent seizures. I fought desperately to maintain my ability to function and my connection with my children. I left the Counseling Program at Johnson University feeling lost, overwhelmed, and hopeless.

Recovery and healing came slowly and with a great deal of hard work. That same process offers me unique insight and compassion for those who, similarly, find their world crashing down around them. This desire fits naturally with my training and experience in ministry and allows me to combine sound mental health practices with biblical wisdom, truth, and insight. Ultimately, I desire to be used by God to help others enjoy and engage their lives and relationships in a healthy and holy manner. Johnson’s mission to prepare students for strategic vocations and the counseling program’s focus on hands-on experience make this program a perfect match for my goals.  

When I started the clinical mental health counseling program at Johnson in 2020, I had a rather shallow understanding of the practice in general. I was focused on theory, worldviews, and a variety of academic minutia. I was also trying to process recent trauma, learn how to be a single father, and ignore health constraints. I was trying to hold my life together and struggling.

Over the last two years, I have engaged deeply in the healing process, from doctor’s visits and studies to weekly CBT-focused counseling and exercises. I have learned a wealth of information about the disability I struggle with, from triggers and prevention to symptoms and intervention. I have also learned that some things are not a challenge to be mastered, but rather a reality that we can accept, accommodate, and learn how to live with.

The healing process was difficult, painful, disappointing, liberating, fulfilling, and freeing all at the same time. It is not a journey I can imagine having walked alone. While my counselor was well versed in all the theory and practice of various CBT-based models, we spoke of theory, models, or methods rarely. Most of the time she sat with me, where I was, and helped me take the next best step. The process was painstakingly practical and grounded.

Life is a journey, and we must start from where we are, not where we want to be. This hasn’t been an easy lesson to learn but it is one I yearn to help others find hope in. The practical hands-on approach of the counseling program at Johnson will allow me to learn the theory and understand the worldviews while focusing on the practical art of helping people. Life is messy and individuals are just that, individual and unique. I value Johnson’s focus on giving us supervised experience sitting with people where they are, in their mess, and helping them find the next best step.

 Research regarding suicide prevention talks about the vital importance of hope. As an ordained minister I have taught the hope of the Gospel for most of my life. I have been trained how to read, interpret, and expound upon scripture and apply those passages to daily life. I am also keenly aware of the impact that trauma, crisis, depression, and struggling to survive can have on someone’s faith.

I got the chance to experience firsthand the impact of a crisis of faith due to complex psychological and emotional pain. I also got to experience how unprepared and undertrained most churches are for helping people with mental health problems. They have all the resources and truth to share but lack the knowledge and skills to share it in the most beneficial way. Often, we lack even the awareness of the need to do so.

Johnson’s biblical foundation, access to biblically trained faculty, and faith-based environment offer the unique opportunity to shape clinical practices and theory informed by the truth of God’s Word. I plan on pursuing a Pastoral Counseling licensure and hope to use my experience in ministry and career in counseling to increase awareness and trained response to mental health needs inside the Church. Johnson offers a unique training environment that will help prepare me to meet those experiencing a crisis of faith where they are and train the Church on how to share God’s love appropriately too.

I believe that the church is in a unique place to offer practical resources as well as hope and love to a multitude of hurting people. I have a particular interest in group and play therapy models and believe that both would fit well inside the church and para-church models. Far too often there seems a disconnect in the church between biblical knowledge and sensitive compassion. Johnson offers a safe place to wrestle with and practice this balance in practical applications.

The faculty and staff at Johnson have been in the field and bring a richness of lived experience to the training. They do not view the practice through purely theoretical lenses, rather they have spent time sitting with people in the messy reality of life. When inevitable questions come up as we wrestle with difficult circumstances and material, they are invaluable resources for the students.

Since I was thirteen years old, I have felt God’s call on my life to be a minister of His love and hope, to be a light for the lost, strength for the weak, and help liberate the captive. Johnson’s mission states that it prepares students for “strategic vocations” for kingdom purposes and that is exactly how I see the counseling program. Counseling is the next best step in my desire to strategically minister hope, compassion, wisdom, and love to those around me.

Ultimately, I desire to be used by God to help others enjoy and engage their lives and relationships in a healthy and holy manner. Survival isn’t enough, blind acceptance isn’t either, God wants joyfully engaged and fully actualized ministers of his Good News. He wants the best for his children, and I am hopeful and thankful to be used in that process.

I believe that Johnson’s biblical foundation, focus on practical application and experience, and a faith-based environment rich in lived experience and resources makes it an ideal match for the continuation of God’s call on my life. I can think of no better place to help me merge biblical wisdom and clinical practice and prepare me to help others find hope again.