Finding the Rope to Lead Us Back Home

Surviving the Blizzard of the Storm Together

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

As some of you know, when I moved to my mountain town of Brevard, NC to re-set our lives, one of the most important tasks I took on with great intentionality, was to build a sense of community. It’s a hard task—at times an overwhelming aspect of starting over, to find new community or even the potential for friendship. It’s doubly hard, when you leave trusted friends in one place and start over unknown in a new place. It’s hard when you don’t have a dog to walk anymore and no one stops to talk to the dog or to you. It’s hard when you don’t have kids at home that makes you get out and meet people at the playground. That was my reality and I wasn’t going to live a lonely life—I would die.

I needed a place where I was seen. I needed a place where I could be listened to. I needed a place where I could ask deep questions. Deep down, I was hoping, perhaps desperately to find a few people I could become friends with and to find a buddy—in a world where “buddyhood” is a lost art and reality.

I began to meet some folks who I felt had the inherent potential to talk below the surface of our lives and to swim with me in the deep end of the pool where we could talk about our fears, longings, disappointments, heartbreaks and how we could all navigate the swirling white waters of so much change happening around us and in us.

Together, with seven other like minded folks, we formed a “Circle of Trust.” In this circle, we would listen and not judge; talk but not teach; let go of controlling a conversation and feel suspended with our feet not touching the bottom of the deep end. To be honest, it’s not been easy to create a culture of trust. It has seemed counter-cultural and at times, counter-intuitive. It seems like this Circle is made of self-made, Alpha leaders who are use to leading and hearing ourselves talk; lead more than follow; come off as “put together” when inwardly, we may be falling apart. You know, that kind of thing.

I think it’s fair to say, I was looking for a few people that I could be at home with—at home in the den—that central and core place to any home where there is comfort, togetherness and a sense of belonging—if not love.

Today, I’m facilitating our Circle and I’ve spent a considerable amount of time wondering and pondering how to find a subject that seems relevant, pertinent and inviting to talk from the heart—not so much the head.

I found this way to begin today that I want to share with you and ask you the question I will ask my Circle of Trust: “What is the rope you are holding onto these days to get you back home?”

Read Parker Palmer’s beautiful Prologue to his remarkable book, Hidden Wholeness and you’ll see what I mean…

“There was a time when farmers on the Great Plains, at the first sign of a blizzard, would run a rope from the back door out to the barn. They all knew stories of people who had wandered off and been frozen to death, having lost sight of home in the whiteout while still in their own backyards.

Today we live in a blizzard of another sort. It swirls around us as economic injustice,ecological ruin, physical and spiritual violence, and their inevitable outcome, war. It swirls within us as fear and frenzy, greed and deceit, and indifference to the suffering of others. We all know stories of people who have wandered off into this madness and been separated from their own souls, losing their moral bearings and even their mortal lives: they make headlines because they take so many innocents down with them.

The lost ones come from every walk of life: clergy and corporate executives, politicians and people on the street, celebrities and schoolchildren. Some of us fear that we, or those we love, will become lost in the storm. Some are lost at this moment and are trying to find the way home. Some are lost without knowing it. And some are using the blizzard as cover while cynically exploiting its chaos for private gain.”

So, read his first paragraph again now… just pause for a moment and sit with my question here…

So, dear Substack friends, what is the rope you are holding onto to get back home?

What stirs up in you as you read Parker Palmer’s words?

I’d so love to hear from you on this. Maybe, just maybe as you share your own rope you are holding onto these days, it will actually help someone ‘out there’ —lost in a winter storm, to find their rope to get them back home. After all, friends, my Substack is a sort of community.

Since Thanksgiving is coming up and we already know we can’t talk about so much stuff we’d like to discuss, maybe read Parker’s words and see how the conversation goes from Turkey to snowstorms to ropes that might be offered at the table this year.

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Here’s a wonderful tool that you could use individually or use in the group or church wide setting to help you examine the storms of 2024 and how to best navigate potential storms in the New Year. It’s called “The Great Annual Examen.” It’s based on the amazing work of Ignatius of Loyola and based on his teachings and writings. Take a look and download a copy.