Go read the lyrics for this song: In Christ Alone. Keith and Kristen Getty are the songwriters and they also perform the song. Just my opinion...there's something a little sweeter about a song when the songwriters sing their works. So, read the lyrics....listen to the song...go look up some different versions....and then, as I tell Mr. Snark when he leaves for a business trip...come back to me.
I don't talk about the specifics of my job. Can't. HIPPA. And, even if HIPPA wasn't the law of the land, I'm fairly certain we would have an in house rule about client confidentiality. It's just good business. There are SO many stories I would like to tell you. We see all kinds...and it's no small wonder since God made all kinds and it takes all kinds of kinds! Being the Keeper of The Information, I get to know ALL of our clients...even if I never sit with them in the counseling room. I guess that's the hazard of answering the phone, making appointments, and processing their paperwork.
On the instances when I sit in as advocate, the game changes and sometimes, I just can't shake a client from my mind. Thursday was one of those days. And two days later, as I write this, I still can't shake her loose from my thoughts. We made an instant connection and let me tell you, when you're sitting down to speak to a complete stranger about a matter as personal as a crisis pregnancy situation, that instant connection is SO important. It was good conversation, but on her end, full of inconsistencies. She said she was a Believer; she came in wearing a t-shirt that had Scripture on it and our conversation revolved around some foundational biblical truths. These truths were familiar to her because of her upbringing but as our time together progressed, I became convinced that they were familiar to her head, but not to her heart. We parted company, amicably; she wrote kind and lovely comments on her exit survey and left the building.
In efforts to quiet the replay that was looping through my mind, I turned on my music. Enter that beautiful song by Mr. and Mrs. Getty. It was a particularly masculine arrangement. A bit different from the other 230 versions that come across my playlist. You give a particular song your approval and every arrangement under the sun is fair game. It was good, though. When it got to the lyric, "..from life's first cry to final breath, Jesus commands my destiny," I began to cry. Tears of confusion and frustration, at first, and then tears of joy. No offense to these gifted song writers, but BEFORE life's first cry, He's there. BEFORE anyone else knows us, He does. BEFORE we are born in our parents' dreams, He's written our individual stories. Each one unique...each one with a purpose...each one loved beyond measure.
I get very excited when I know we're singing this song. From now on, though, I'll be singing it with the slightest of lyric changes...." Ere life's first cry, to final breath," and hope that the songsmiths will understand.
I don't talk about the specifics of my job. Can't. HIPPA. And, even if HIPPA wasn't the law of the land, I'm fairly certain we would have an in house rule about client confidentiality. It's just good business. There are SO many stories I would like to tell you. We see all kinds...and it's no small wonder since God made all kinds and it takes all kinds of kinds! Being the Keeper of The Information, I get to know ALL of our clients...even if I never sit with them in the counseling room. I guess that's the hazard of answering the phone, making appointments, and processing their paperwork.
On the instances when I sit in as advocate, the game changes and sometimes, I just can't shake a client from my mind. Thursday was one of those days. And two days later, as I write this, I still can't shake her loose from my thoughts. We made an instant connection and let me tell you, when you're sitting down to speak to a complete stranger about a matter as personal as a crisis pregnancy situation, that instant connection is SO important. It was good conversation, but on her end, full of inconsistencies. She said she was a Believer; she came in wearing a t-shirt that had Scripture on it and our conversation revolved around some foundational biblical truths. These truths were familiar to her because of her upbringing but as our time together progressed, I became convinced that they were familiar to her head, but not to her heart. We parted company, amicably; she wrote kind and lovely comments on her exit survey and left the building.
In efforts to quiet the replay that was looping through my mind, I turned on my music. Enter that beautiful song by Mr. and Mrs. Getty. It was a particularly masculine arrangement. A bit different from the other 230 versions that come across my playlist. You give a particular song your approval and every arrangement under the sun is fair game. It was good, though. When it got to the lyric, "..from life's first cry to final breath, Jesus commands my destiny," I began to cry. Tears of confusion and frustration, at first, and then tears of joy. No offense to these gifted song writers, but BEFORE life's first cry, He's there. BEFORE anyone else knows us, He does. BEFORE we are born in our parents' dreams, He's written our individual stories. Each one unique...each one with a purpose...each one loved beyond measure.
I get very excited when I know we're singing this song. From now on, though, I'll be singing it with the slightest of lyric changes...." Ere life's first cry, to final breath," and hope that the songsmiths will understand.
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