Less that 100 left

It's down to double digits in my pursuit of a graduate degree. December 14 is the last official day of classes. My intention is to have all work completed earlier that week.

After the degree is posted on the transcript, it's off to Lansing with the application package. Depending upon when the University gets the transcript out the door to Lansing, the limited license should arrive some time in February.

I sat in on my first case conference at the Samaritan Center this morning. What a neat experience it was. A psychiatrist, two psychologists, and a handful of LPCs and MFTs were in attendance. Everyone at the table welcomed me warmly, and expressed that they were glad I was joining them. It seemed to me that they genuinely meant it. The meeting started--ON TIME--with a prayer. New intakes were presented, and we all contributed ideas and perspectives for the presenting therapists to think about. Caseloads are pretty full. I got the sense that it won't be terribly difficult to fill my own docket, too. Then the meeting ended--ON TIME!

I am struck by the absence of chaos at SCC. Counterpoint was chaotic because it just is chaotic. It's a crisis shelter: it is chaotic by definition. Social service agencies like Counterpoint cannot help but be touched by the anxious family systems with which they work. It's a hazard they have to live with; they know it, and they cope with it pretty well.

Still, I'm grateful for the chaos of Counterpoint. My first case conference there is, in my mind, highlighted by an intrapsychic struggle to maintain control of an almost-overwhelming anxiety. As the case managers there presented 6 clients, all of whom were deeply involved in promiscuity and drugs and gangs and truancy, I was monitoring my heart rate and breathing as both escalated. I managed to control myself externally, but internally I think I was screaming and scrambling for the exit.

500-plus contact hours later, I can listen to stories about people who struggle with sexual identity or collapsing marriages or PTSD, or pastors who cheat, and what I feel is a mixture of empathic concern and fascination. The only anxiety I feel is motivated by insecurity: will I do good work here? I suppose that's what was motivating my anxiety 500 hours ago. I just don't feel overwhelmed now. At Counterpoint, it was a question of survival. Now, it's a question of thriving and excelling.

Just one more thing: in spite of my struggles with faith, I am increasingly convinced that God's guiding hand has been in this part of my life. There are times when I feel like He's just a step ahead of me; kind of like coming home to an empty house, but it's obvious that somebody's just left the place because the table is set and dinner's in the oven. With each step toward licensure, it's like stepping into a place on the path which God has cleared and straightened for me.

It's humbling.

Cheers!
Mark