Six Roses, and a Face I Still Remember

What thirteen churches couldn't stop

I lived in a town that believed energy work was of the devil. They showed up anyway and I had no idea of the impact I had, until someone handed me six roses and I paused long enough to notice.

You don't need everything resolved to make a good decisions for yourself. That's not how it works. You need to be healed enough. Resourced enough. Aware enough. Enough is not the same as finished.

In the late 90s I lived in a small rural town with thirteen fundamentalist churches. The members weren't supposed to come to my office for body and energy work — energy work was of the devil, even though I explained it in terms of physics, not spirit.

But they came anyway. They snuck in, asked questions that they couldn’t ask elsewhere, and asked me to do what I do, just don't tell them what it was. That way they weren't going against the minister — because they didn't know.

That was also the season I was living through my own dark night of the soul. I found a type of energy work that gave me exactly what I needed — clearing, rebalancing, a way to stay centered and trust that life was still good even when I couldn't see why. It's the same work I went on to learn, teach and continue to offer.

I kept to myself that whole time. I wasn't part of the town's rhythms — no potlucks, no dating, not much of anywhere outside my own four walls. But small towns notice things. They noticed I was the one filling my own gas tank. They noticed I didn’t have a man around. They noticed I seemed happy without an obvious reason. I became a small mystery to solve.

I had no idea of my impact until people started telling me. That I'd changed something in them. That I was proof, without meaning to be, that another way of being was possible.

During a short part time stint helping with the school play, a young woman — a high schooler who liked to hover near me while I handed out snacks, though we rarely spoke — handed me a two-page letter and six roses, just to say thank you. She signed her name. I don't remember it, but I still remember her face.

That floored me. I hadn't been trying to prove anything. I'd just been trying to get through my own days, staying as close to centered as I could manage.

That's the part I keep coming back to. We never know what we're doing for someone else just by doing our own healing, in our own way, on our own time.

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Warmly,

Suzanne