Have you ever thought of the work you do as an SLP as being holy?
Some days float through its hours with numbing speed. We interact with our clients one after another, nimbly moving from one disorder to the next. Mindlessly taking data, mentally multitasking, conveyor belting our caseloads one tiny step better than Lucy and Ethel. There are many words to describe these days, but holy isn’t one of them.
Yet there are those moments. When time slows and shimmers with the essence of something that feels…holy.
I know you’ve been there. That child who has for weeks blown exasperated sighs in your face failing to master the lingual acrobatics needed to produce a target sound. Then suddenly one day he just gets it. And you startle him silly with your ecstatic squeal.
Or maybe you’re sitting across the table from a heartbroken parent pouring out frustration in the safe, empathic space you’ve invited them to.
Imagine minutes spent counseling a teen through the devastating isolation of dysfluency.
Or it could be when your client says his wife’s name for the first time following a stroke. Or those few tiny seconds when your autistic preschooler initiates eye contact and smiles.
As professionals, we are in an honored position. Every one of our clients comes to us vulnerable. They come wrestling with a need to improve their interactions with their world. It is our job to not only provide therapy but to bear witness to their struggle. To watch as they try and fail over and over, encouraging them to rise up and try again.
From babies to grandpas, what a joy to hold such a holy space for another.
Guiding others toward better speech and language, if we are honest with ourselves, is messy. It can be a long and winding path that at times end up at discouraging dead ins. But we must not forget that the actual struggle is what matters most. It is part of the necessary process toward change, skill building and growth.
Only through communication can human life hold meaning. –Paulo Freire
We encounter such a rainbowed variety of problems in our work as an SLP. The stakes are high in each one because of the invaluable necessity of communication.
What if we looked for the holy moments in every day? How would it transform the work we do? May we never allow our own agenda or frustration or apathy to fog the reality that our work matters. May you find joy in the hard and in the holy today.
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Very well said. I do think we experience “holy” moments with our clients. Those moments are precious and powerful for all involved. Norah Thurman