The Healing Power of Home: Seven Virtues You Need when You Hurt

Ava Pickard’s book hits home! In spite of all the advantages of the age of technology, we are living in a world of deep need. Many individuals and families have looked for answers only to end up at a dead end. As a licensed clinical social worker, Ava is a distinguished teacher and counselor. She is completely familiar with what families are facing in today’s complex society. But there is more: Years ago when we first met Ava Pickard, we quickly realized that in addition to all her other qualifications, this is a woman motivated by compassion and a deep-rooted faith in God. This book is designed to help people in the storms of life. I believe Ava Pickard’s book is right on time!

—DAVID E. GODWIN

PASTOR AND MISSIONARY TO MEXICO

It is rare to find someone who merges spiritual insight with professional counseling, but Ava Pickard is truly one who does it brilliantly. No one has impacted my life and help me redefine my purpose to the degree that Ava Pickard did mine. Ava’s counseling became a pivotal point in my own journey to freedom that I’ve written about in my book Some Days You Dance. During the most devastating time of my life, Ava led me gently, yet firmly toward the freedom Jesus promises each of us. Thank you, Ava, for your uncompromising commitment to helping people find the abundant life Jesus promised.

—VIKKI BURKE

AUTHOR, SPEAKER, CO-FOUNDER, DENNIS BURKE MINISTRIES

In the more than twenty-five years I have known Ava, I have found her to be an amazing Godly woman of wisdom and insight. She has been such a blessing to my family and me, and most recently as I recovered from the loss of my wife she has been a supportive friend. She has helped so many in those years, I am grateful to her for staying the course that the Lord Jesus has called her to do.

—OSCAR ROAN, EVANGELIST

OSCAR ROAN MINISTRIES

The Healing Power of Home is like a soothing balm for your mind and soul! This heartwarming collection of stories about real people and their triumph over life’s trials and tribulations is a must read. Ava’s book intersects her faith with practice that will nourish your soul and nurture the heart!

—DR. VANNEISE COLLINS

DIRECTOR, CENTER FOR LEARNING AND DEVELOPMENT

UNIVERSITY OF NORTH TEXAS HEALTH SCIENCE CENTER

AVA PICKARD

THE HEALING POWER OF HOME by Ava Pickard

Published by Creation House

A Charisma Media Company

600 Rinehart Road

Lake Mary, Florida 32746

www.charismamedia.com

This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

Unless otherwise noted, all Scripture quotations are from the New King James Version of the Bible. Copyright © 1979, 1980, 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc., publishers. Used by permission.

Scripture quotations marked AMP are from the Amplified Bible. Old Testament copyright © 1965, 1987 by the Zondervan Corporation. The Amplified New Testament copyright © 1954, 1958, 1987 by the Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.

Scripture quotations marked KJV are from the King James Version of the Bible.

Scripture quotations marked THE MESSAGE are from The Message: The Bible in Contemporary English, copyright © 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002. Used by permission of NavPress Publishing Group.

Scripture quotations marked NIV are from the Holy Bible, New International Version. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2010, 2011, International Bible Society. Used by permission.

Design Director: Bill Johnson

Cover design by Beth Douglas

Copyright © 2012 by Ava Pickard

All rights reserved.

Some names have been changed to preserve the privacy of the individuals involved.

Visit the author’s website: Healing-streams-ministry.com

Library of Congress Cataloging.in.Publication Data: 2012940594

International Standard Book Number: 978-1-62136-059-9

E-book International Standard Book Number: 978-1-62136-060-5

While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers and Internet addresses at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors or for changes that occur after publication.

DEDICATION

To Bill, and the healing power of love.

CONTENTS

Introduction

1 The Event

VIRTUE ONE — HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS:

THE HEALING POWER OF SPEAKING

FROM THE HEART

2 Virtue One: The Healing Power of Speaking from the Heart—Part I

3 Virtue One: The Healing Power of Speaking from the Heart—Part II

4 Virtue One: The Healing Power of Speaking from the Heart—Part III

VIRTUE TWO — TAKING THE LONG WAY HOME:

THE HEALING POWER OF UNCONDITIONAL LOVE

5 Virtue Two: The Healing Power of Unconditional Love—Part I

6 Virtue Two: The Healing Power of Unconditional Love—Part II

7 Virtue Two: The Healing Power of Unconditional Love—Part III

8 Virtue Two: The Healing Power of Unconditional Love—Epilogue

VIRTUE THREE — NEVER IS HEARD

A DISCOURAGING WORD:

THE HEALING POWER OF GENTLE CONFRONTATION

9 Virtue Three: The Healing Power of Gentle Confrontation—Part I

10 Virtue Three: The Healing Power of Gentle Confrontation—Part II

11 Virtue Three: The Healing Power of Gentle Confrontation—Part III

VIRTUE FOUR — I SIMPLY REMEMBER MY FAVORITE

THINGS: THE HEALING POWER OF CREATING SAFETY

12 Virtue Four: The Healing Power of Creating Safety— Part I

13 Virtue Four: The Healing Power of Creating Safety— Part II

VIRTUE FIVE — YE WHO ARE WEARY COME HOME: THE

HEALING POWER OF LETTING GO

14 Virtue Five: The Healing Power of Letting Go— Part I

15 Virtue Five: The Healing Power of Letting Go— Part II

VIRTUE SIX — KEEP THE HOME FIRES BURNING: THE

HEALING POWER OF BELONGING SOMEWHERE

16 Virtue Six: The Healing Power of Belonging Somewhere—Part I

17 Virtue Six: The Healing Power of Belonging Somewhere—Part II

VIRTUE SEVEN — AS FOR ME AND MY HOUSE: THE

HEALING POWER OF FAITH

18 Virtue Seven: The Healing Power of Faith— Part I

19 Virtue Seven: The Healing Power of Faith— Part II

Final Words

Notes

About the Author

Contact the Author

INTRODUCTION

ON SEPTEMBER 11, 2001, as the nation watched the horror at what we all came to know as an act of terrorism, some of us began to change the way we feel about the world and our nation. We came to feel that our national equilibrium had suddenly been placed off-kilter. In one moment, everything we knew about safety and security began to crumble like the mass of expertly engineered steel of the Twin Towers, leaving those inside helpless to save themselves. We began to understand how a national crisis can quickly become very personal as all we shared in the corporate horror and came to see that it was to be day unlike any other we have known. It literally defined what it means to be in a crisis on a national scale.

On September 11, 2001, I had finished the first few chapters of this book. And, along with you, I watched the events unfold on that day and wept as I saw the workers in New York City as they fled the World Trade Center area. I had visited there only a few weeks before and had walked through the foyers of those very buildings where I had gone to purchase tickets to a Broadway show, so the events felt peculiarly surreal as I watched the scene unfold. And, as I watched through the lens of a social worker specializing in crisis intervention, I couldn’t help note a side event that was taking place in the midst of all the horror.

I listened as reporters shared stories about children being led to safety by their heroic teachers who borrowed shopping carts to place the terrified toddlers into when their little feet could no longer keep up the frenzied pace that had suddenly threatened to engulf them. I watched and listened, as did millions of others, as story after heart-wrenching story was related in those first hours. We watched and re-watched the soot-covered people of all ages, ethnicity, and gender escape the horror; unaware that their images would be permanently imprinted into the minds and hearts of people all over the world who would probably never see them again.

We heard later that many thousands of people had simply continued to walk past the Manhattan shops and businesses, the wide-eyed neighbors and business owners fearfully peering through their windows and shop displays, curious about the ash-covered, dazed-looking passersby who appeared to know just where they were heading. And we heard about the generosity of shoe merchants along the route handing out their inventories of tennis shoes to the bewildered walkers, a sudden and spontaneous act of kindness and nurturance that was to be repeated many times over by strangers compelled to render aid to the emerging mass of victim survivors.

It was the story of these sojourning souls who walked up to ten miles through the streets of Manhattan and over the tangled web of bridges separating midtown by the river and onward to the boroughs where they lived that caught my attention. They were walking home.

And, after the buildings had been hit and before they went down, we learned about the people still inside and wept as we heard how they grabbed their cell phones and called home, knowing it would be the last time they could say, I love you.

I immediately called each of my grown children to hear the sound of their voices and make sure they were safe, as did millions of mothers and fathers that day throughout the nation and the world. We needed to hear their voices, to touch them emotionally. And so, in one instant in early autumn at the turn of the new millennium, the world paused as we were all forced to begin a journey that for some would inflict a lifetime of personal pain. But for others, like me and perhaps for you, we couldn’t help feeling blessed that the event did not touch our lives so personally; but we still couldn’t avoid the pangs of empathy towards the sufferings of others in a profoundly personal way. An event such as we all experienced with 911 reminds us of how quickly life can change and forces some of us to revisit our own past experiences with life-defining, personal crises such as catastrophic illness, accidents, or the death of a loved one.

Most of us, out of our human need for homeostasis, I suppose, have appeared to balance the empathic pain for others with our need to escape the effects of the trauma. We tend to settle into a defensive posture of denial that enables us to maintain a sense of control over dreadful circumstances. Continuing on with the busyness of life, we forget the misfortune that an event of this magnitude has visited on others, and at the same time we can’t help but feel inwardly grateful to have escaped the misfortune ourselves. We don’t mean to be insensitive; we simply have a great compulsion to get back to normal. And we do.

But these survivors of this terrible day caught my attention; walking past the shops, over the bridges, and down the streets, their ulcer-laden, bloodied feet continued onward toward the only place that could provide the comfort they needed to try and make sense out of the utter senselessness they felt. Somehow they must have instinctively known that if they could just get home, they would be able to escape the horror they left behind them in that place, just a few hours before, they had not feared at all.

We’ve heard the clichés all of our lives. There’s no place like home; home is where the heart is; keep the home fires burning; and so on. Home has been called our castle, and our nest. We launch from it, we yearn to get back to it when we leave it, and we get sick-hearted when we move away from it. Songs are written about it, poems are recited in honor of it, novelists grace their covers with it, and artists paint the light of it depicting the glow of candle lamps beyond cottage-like window dressings and English garden landscapes. Sweet, savory smells remind us of it, and the sound of a familiar voice recalls for us memories long-forgotten but found residing warmly within us. And though not everyone has sweet memories of this place, they long for it and pine for the day when they can enjoy the things they feel they’ve missed in their lives. They long for a place called home, especially when they are hurting.

What is it? I asked myself, as I watched those traumatized people in New York walk all of those miles. What are they really looking for? What is it exactly that we all need when we are compelled to get home when we are hurting? This book attempts to answer those questions by defining a few of the attributes that we look for when we are in pain—in the hope that we can create them for ourselves and others when we really need them. It written from the perspective of a parent, a daughter, a wife, a teacher, and a therapist trained as a social worker who has also suffered from a few of life’s tragic eventualities, things that effect most of us at some time or another.

I want to share a part of my own story as well as some stories of others whom I have known or hold dear—some with whom I have worked in helping them to heal from the wounds of their painful experiences. I want to share them to demonstrate what I’ve learned about a few of the things we need when we are suffering—things that are found not so much in a specific place we call home but from a place we can create for ourselves and others who may be in the throes of sudden or seemingly unrelenting pain. It’s a place that can provide the gentle warmth we need to surround us so that we can heal, like the chicken soup Grandma gave us when we had a fever. And it’s just down the winding road ahead; can you see it there? It’s a place called home.

Chapter One

THE EVENT

ILOOKED OUT ON the highway that afternoon hardly noticing the traffic. The route to the post office was so familiar that I could drive to it without thinking. But that day I was concerned about the mail. The months of looking for checks to come to my post office box from third-party payors (clinical speak for insurance companies) had become arduous and disappointing. I opened the box and looked at the blue check showing through the envelope window and felt a tinge of relief, but knew also that my relief would be short-lived since my income from the meager amount of counseling I was able to perform since becoming ill had not come close to covering my expenses of late. But I did breathe a sigh of relief and felt grateful anyway.

My thoughts quickly returned to the anticipation of the event we were to experience that day. It would be an experience that would far overshadow any other one, and would serve to not only catapult me out of the denial in which I had lived since the diagnosis, but more importantly it would begin to reveal a source of strength I did not realize I had until that day.

It had been three weeks before that my oncologist warned