The Beginning

I started going to Shalom in 1989 or 1990.

At the time, I was seeing a therapist named Lee Sennish, who was a big follower of Jerry Jud. Because I am a therapist myself, I understand that therapists do not always share with their clients the places where they do their own work.

I am very grateful that Lee was willing to say to me, “Jerry is going to be leaving. I want you to go,” and that was the beginning.

Something Was Missing

When I look back at my life in 1990, I had just gotten my license as a social worker and was beginning a new career. I had a lovely house, a lovely son who was about twelve or thirteen, and a good husband.

My father had died when I was fifteen, so I did not go to college right out of high school, but I was able to go back. By the time I was forty-five, I had completed my sixty-credit master’s degree and finally had the life I had been working toward.

I knew how fortunate I was, and yet I felt something was missing that I could not quite identify.

Lee sent me to Shalom, and it gave me a whole different way of looking at everything. Jerry Jud used to say that after you completed your retreat and MAT trip at Shalom, it was as though you had put on a new pair of goggles, and that is exactly what it felt like.

Even now, I become emotional when I think about Lee. She died when she was ninety-three, and although she began as my therapist, our relationship continued after I finished working with her, practically until the day she died. I still miss her and remain deeply grateful that she told me to go.

Learning to Present to the World

I grew up as an only child in an Irish Catholic family, and much of what I learned centered on how to present myself to the world rather than a way to simply be myself.

I was isolated in many ways and often felt on the outside. Like many people, I kept a lot inside, perhaps sharing freely with one trusted friend but holding most things back.

I went to Catholic school for twelve years, with daily religious instruction that never truly resonated with me. I often felt judged by the Church and as though I could never do things right. I struggled to understand many of its positions, including,  as an adolescent, why I had to confess impure thoughts to a man in a booth, and it never felt right to me.

Then I went to Shalom and discovered something entirely different.

Permission to Be

I did most of my work at Shalom with Kai Jud, and something about the experience allowed me to be who I was meant to be, rather than who the Church, my parents, or society expected me to be.

I began asking deeper questions about my essence and what I truly wanted to become. I felt something tugging at me, even though I did not yet understand what it was or what “essence” meant.

Through the process at Shalom, I became more in touch with who I felt God wanted me to be and how I had been put together. A line from a poem stayed with me: “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” That idea deeply affected me.

At Shalom, I felt permission to have my own experiences and beliefs without worrying about what others were thinking. As they say there, you are forgiven before you sin, which is incredibly freeing. It is an open affirmation that you are welcome and loved for who you are.

Tremendous Exposure

Friday morning 7-minute storytelling was very frightening for me, and I cried through the entire experience.

Telling my story felt like a tremendous exposure, especially because I had often been told I was ungrateful, even though parts of my story had been very painful, especially when I spoke of my Dad’s death when I was 15. It sometimes felt as though I did not have the right to speak about what I had missed.

In the deep work at Shalom, there are no filters, and what you have kept inside begins to come out. On one of my MAT trips, I remember feeling as though I was revealing what I considered the ugliest parts of myself, though I do not recall the specific details.

What I do remember is being loved, and knowing that when you are loved in that place, there is profound healing. There is nothing deeper than showing what you believe are your worst parts and still being affirmed and accepted.

The Release I Did Not Know I Needed

When you expose yourself and are met with love, you begin to realize that you are not as bad as you once believed. You also discover how much you have been holding, both emotionally and physically.

I had not realized how much tension I carried in my body until I experienced both emotional and physical release through the work. I could feel it in my spirit, as though something inside me was lifting.

From that place, you begin to blossom in ways you could not before, supported by others who are, in a sense, cheering you on. There are crucial times in life when we need comfort from another person, and an immense amount of healing can come from that presence.

Even with a small child, moments of distress are critical opportunities for comfort, and when that comfort is absent, it can create lasting wounds. At Shalom, people were there in those crucial moments.

What I Needed but Did Not Know I Needed

The healing I experienced opened my heart and deepened my understanding that we never truly know what is happening inside another person or what their life has been like.

Shalom introduced me to a different way of seeing the world, as Jerry Jud described, and I met many people who broadened my understanding of human experience. They spoke openly, and I learned to listen.

Whenever you return to Shalom, you are among people who have gone through similar processes, which creates an immediate sense of intimacy even if you do not know one another well. There is a shared understanding that allows you to speak freely without fear of judgment.

You can relax, share what is troubling you, celebrate what is good, and even be playful. The acceptance and intimacy I found there were exactly what I needed, even though I had not known it before.

I Have a Voice

One of the most important gifts Shalom gave me was a voice and the confidence to use it.

I feel more comfortable expressing myself now, understanding that the value lies in speaking, even if others may not fully hear or agree. Having a voice means not suppressing or swallowing what needs to be said.

I have also come to see that who I am is normal, which allows me to share openly when I believe it might help someone else. I feel free to talk about my life, including personal or medical experiences, because those conversations can be meaningful.

Shalom also taught me that helping others is not about giving what makes me feel good, but about recognizing what the other person truly needs and responding to that.

The Courage to Stand Alone

For twenty years, I worked in a hospital, and during one period, management placed heavy demands on our department while failing to compensate us fairly.

We eventually took the hospital to arbitration, something I do not believe I would have had the courage to do before Shalom. I had to speak in a formal setting before an arbitrator, sometimes entirely on my own.

I do not think I could have done it without the support and grounding I received from Shalom and its community. During those years, I returned often for retreats and gatherings, where I felt held and supported.

That community, along with Kai’s guidance, helped me find the strength to stand up and speak. I led my department through two arbitrations and won both. 

An Amazing Gift

I saw Jerry Jud at Shalom’s fortieth anniversary, and we had the chance to sit and talk. I told him what an extraordinary gift Shalom was to the world and how remarkable it was that the stewards had continued his work.

I could see how much that meant to him, and now, as Shalom reaches its fiftieth anniversary, that legacy continues.

To anyone considering going, I would say that the only way to understand it is to experience it for yourself, because it is difficult to fully capture in words.

Please Carry It On

To future generations of Shalom, I would simply say to carry it on.

The impact of Shalom extends far beyond the individual, as it changed me and, in turn, influenced my son, my clients, and the way I relate to others. That influence continues to ripple outward.

The greatest gifts I received may be the ability to be intimate and to share my truth openly with Shalomers, knowing that I will still be accepted and loved. This gives me the confidence to share my truth in the world.

That love is at the core of everything, permitting us to grow, the courage to stand alone when necessary, and the openness to help others from the heart.

It also gave me something essential: a voice that I now trust and use.