Assaulted. That's how I feel on a Sunday. Assaulted with other people's problems. Many people in our church think that, because of my illustrious title on a Sunday morning, I am also a trained counselor. And most of the time, I have no idea what to say when they come to me with their problems. I counted this past Sunday: four different people waited to talk to me about their personal problems- looking for advice.
Marriage problems. Parenting problems. Blended family problems. Aging parent problems. One older guy even told me he was late because he had dirrahea. I'm not kidding. I've been cried on, cussed at, talked about, and put on an unfortunate pedestal while I'm wearing stilettos (ok, I've never really worn stilettos, but you get the idea). It feels dangerous.
What if I say the wrong thing to someone? I mean, the diarahhea guy I can handle: "Go eat some cheese, buddy, and keep it to yourself next time... oh, and never trust a fart." Simple mom advice. I can't help with issues I've never dealt with- like parenting a surly step-child. Yikes. I guess I'm going to have to learn to say "I don't know the answer, but I'll sure help you pray about it." I can listen like a friend, I can care, and I really can pray.
That much I can do.
PS: You really never should trust a fart. Some free advice- from a non-licensed counselor-at-large. ;)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Good advice. Maybe you should set up a stand like Lucy from the Peanuts comic strip? At least then you could get paid 5 cents or so with each piece of advice! ;0)
I would think my advice is worth at least .25 cents- what with inflation and all! ;)
Post a Comment