However, a few weeks ago, I thought of a good analogy that is brief yet infinitely more accurate than "tough." So here is what I can (and may) say in the future, when someone asks me about my experience in Danville:
"To say that my experience in that particular setting was 'tough' would be like saying that September 11, 2001 was an 'unfortunate event' for the United States of America." In other words, my two years in Danville (particularly the final six months) were to my professional and persona lives what September 11 was to this nation: absolutely devastating, life-changing, and innocence-shattering.
Before anyone gets extremely offended by what I just said, please understand that I don't mean any disrespect to those who died as a result of 9-11, who lost family members in that tragedy, nor am I trying to make light of that horrible day. I am merely trying to use it as a comparison to my own experience, because I think it is an accurate comparison to the impact Danville had on my life and my family. I ran it by James almost as soon as I thought of it, and he (who walked with me, supported, defended, and loved me through the whole experience, and was also wounded himself) totally agreed.
Here are some of the similarities I've thought of:
- The 9-11 attacks totally blindsided the US; their success was a result of our defenses being down and us not expecting (and not being prepared for) anything of that scale. I had no clue what was going on "behind the scenes" at Saint John's because I was inexperienced and (for the first year at least) they put on a very good front.
- The 9-11 attacks also shattered our innocence (whatever innocence a 225 year old nation has), damaged our ability to trust others, and left us feeling rather bruised, battered, and grief-stricken. By the time I left St. John's in May 2008, I felt so bruised and battered that it took me ten months of reflection and sharing with my CPE colleagues and supervisor before I had reached the place where I could forgive certain church members, the congregation as a whole, and even myself for what happened.
- In the aftermath of 9-11, we felt that other nations were not supporting us. Remember how we appealed to various "allies" for help in tracking down Al-Qaeda (sp?) and many of them turned us down? Remember the story about "freedom fries" instead of "French Fries" in Capitol Hill cafeterias? While I did have several clergy colleagues who reached out to me during my experience and after I left, I felt abandoned by the Annual Conference. My marriage was suffering, my self-confidence was at an all-time low, I was seriously questioning my calling to ordained ministry, and I was constantly beating myself up over what happened, but all I sensed from the Annual Conference was...recrimination, for lack of a better term.
- While we may have healed from 9-11, we are forever changed and things will never be the same. I don't think this is necessarily all bad, but it's a shame that we have to go to these lengths to protect ourselves. Think of how air travel has changed...I feel like I have mostly processed through things and have experienced healing. However, if I ever return to the local church as a pastor, I will take certain measures to protect myself and my family so we're not so vulnerable again, and so I'm more aware of potential "bombs."
- Although it's possible that September 11 might have been less catastrophic with a little more diligence on the part of the U.S. (some of the things we do now, for example), it was by no means "our fault." Likewise, I've come to realize that accept that while I certainly hold some responsibility for the whole Saint John's debacle, there were many aspects that were out of my control and/or a result of pure circumstance (inexperience, being naive, losing my father-in-law, having a baby, being in a long-distance marriage, have postpartum depression, and my dog dying, among others).
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