When I arrive at work each morning, I hear a bell clanging, footsteps hurrying. I follow them downstairs into a wood-floored room, where through high windows I see sun starting to touch the mountains beyond. A circle of people is here, between 25 and 30 of us. The rustle of activity and chatter stills to silence as the leader greets us, beginning our morning routine.
In this residential home for adults with developmental challenges, each day starts with morning circle. One coworker calls on residents tasked to say what will be for lunch, who will be covering the night, and other everyday announcements. Less ordinary events are also previewed, like a visitor who will be stopping by, or a visit to the dentist. Maybe someone is leaving for a weekend trip to visit their family, or expected to return in the evening.
This gathering is the grounding for our day, a point of security that lets everyone know what to expect. Of course, unexpected events can and do occur, but by preparing the residents as best we can for what is to come, we coworkers minimize the anxiety that would take hold if they were constantly being surprised. Anything that jolts them out of the usual routine, even a joyful event — a birthday, an outing to the village — can shatter their peace, leading them into a negative spiral. It’s vital to hold these ups and downs in a circle of awareness, an assurance that there is a consciousness that can contain all these random events.
The most important message we want to send is that whatever happens, whether it’s a painful dental examination, an unfamiliar visitor, or something totally unpredictable, someone will be there, accompanying and supporting them. They will not be left alone to handle what is coming.
During the season of Advent, I hear readings from Scripture that warn me of frightening and disruptive events. The powers of heaven are being shaken, I learn. There will be earthquakes and uprisings and famines, betrayal and hatred and death. My soul shrinks with anxiety, reluctant to meet those challenges. How can I possibly stand tall, lifting my head high, looking upward, when I only want to flee into the mountains? What will bring me out of the dark crevice where my soul longs to take refuge?
I think of our residents, who bravely face more challenges every day than I can even imagine. I see them standing before me, each one a unique blessing to the earth, raising their eyes to meet mine, in openness and trust. They have conquered the greatest disability there is: the insistence that we are alone in this world and have to do everything by ourselves, without help. They stand up for an alternative way of life — trusting in the helpers who have promised to care for them.
Though I am far from worthy of such unbounded faith, I can strive to be a little bit better at caring for and supporting them, every day. And that is my own developmental challenge, my chance to slowly grow into the Kingdom of Heaven. To know it is not somewhere far away, only coming in the future, but here and now, if I can find the strength to perceive where it is appearing. To connect with our Helper, who will not fail to keep his promise to be with us always.
And so I enter the circle each morning, the practice that brings faith down to earth. I am still unworthy, yet ready to show up, fearful, yet willing to dare a step into the unknown. Together, we will meet the day.