Every once in awhile, I attend a meeting, workshop, or worship service that teaches me something I cannot forget. Most recently, I had this experience at a young women’s meeting in my association. The leader, Jen, taught us about Lent and presented the concept of rending our hearts instead of rending our clothes—of tearing away all that is not needed in our lives—of freeing the heart from all that binds. I find this to be a beautiful image.
Another such meeting occurred during college. My friend Sally led our Bible study group through a meditation during which we reflected upon our lives and colored a butterfly. Afterward, she asked us to share our stories with a partner and then had us crumple our partner’s creation. When she asked us to do this, there was a collective gasp. But we did it. And Sally used it as an illustration of what we do to people when we don’t properly listen to them and/or when we break people’s trust.
That butterfly meditation was so powerful to me that I have used it numerous times since Sally introduced it. Each time I’ve used it, it has made a profound impact on the group with whom I’m working. In fact, I believe in its impact so much that I keep around 40 individual packs of crayons and a stash of blank butterflies with my retreat supplies in case I ever need to lead a group activity.
I had something odd happen over the weekend, though.
From the very first activity of the retreat, when retreat participants seriously considered their answers to some very “silly” questions, I knew the group was unique! They liked to laugh. They liked to talk. They liked to think and they thought deeply. So I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me when they absolutely refused to crumple their butterflies. Like Sally, I’m usually met with a gasp and often have one or two people who are hesitant to do as I’ve asked. Eventually, though, everyone has always ended up following my lead.
Not this group!
They stared at me in stubborn refusal for around two minutes. I did everything I could to convince them that I was being serious. I even did a countdown to see if they’d all crumple their butterflies at the same time. Finally, one of the women looked at me and emphatically said, “No. I’m not going to do it. She has entrusted me with her story and I’m not going to damage it.”
At that point, there was nothing left for me to say except, “Exactly. That is my point. You just got it in a different way than I expected! So I hope that you truly do get it—that you truly will refuse to damage someone’s story after she has shared it with you and that you’ll refuse to damage your own story by belittling it in any way.”
That is my hope for you, too, reader, as is it my hope for me. I’ve hoped it since college and I hope it tonight and I hope that you will use this season of Lent to render your hearts and make an effort to honor the persons in your life whose words and actions made a difference.
That being said…Thank you, Jen and Sally. Your lives and words have made a difference in mine.
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