A new image for healthy boundaries

Last week, I was helping with a residency for the spiritual direction program at Divine Mercy University. There were 20 in the cohort – a beautiful and diverse mix of men and women, priests, deacons, and religious. This was their last residency before being given the green light to meet with people for spiritual direction (under the supervision of DMU). The residency included several role-plays on establishing a relationship, noticing things like transference, and most important of all, setting boundaries.

Without boundaries, relationships in both spiritual direction and life can go awry. When this happens to me, I often end up stressed for being over-committed or feeling guilty for not doing enough. Countless other feelings can easily arise when there are fuzzy boundaries or no boundaries at all.

Initially, some of the students were a little timid about setting boundaries, almost apologizing for having to explain the need for some professional separation with their directee.

It took a while for them to grasp that healthy boundaries are not meant to be limiting, but freeing. Even from the beginning, God separated the land from the water. This was not so that life on dry land would be limited, but so that life on dry land would flourish without the chaos of the ocean getting in the way.

Robert Frost famously said in his poem, Mending Wall, “Good fences make good neighbours.” In other words, good relationships should touch, but not infiltrate into the other’s space.

Setting boundaries in spiritual direction has similarities to setting healthy boundaries with coworkers, family, and friends. There are three simple steps: (1) identify the boundary that needs to be established or that has been broken – sometimes this requires time for prayer, reflection, and self-examination, (2) communicate this clearly and simply, without defensiveness or overexplaining, and (3) say why this is important.

When people ask me to do something that might be too much or not appropriate to our relationship, I sum up these three steps in four little words: “I’d love to but…”

As an image, I thought about a visit to the park, pushing my grandson on a swing. He was filled with glee as the swing went back and forth, feeling the momentary weightlessness at the apex and the rush of gravity when the swing reversed its course. Seeing Granda’s big smile and hearing his belly-laugh amplified his joy.

Even there, certain ‘boundaries’ fostered this delight. The chains set the limits. The seat provided a safe support. The push was calibrated to keep the swing moving higher, but not out of control.

To set boundaries for relationships to flourish, maybe it’s the same. Set limits. Provide the needed support. And calibrate the push.