Difficult Seasons

Just like I do 10 or 15 times on days I visit the hospital, I pushed the elevator button, and as the door opened and I stepped in, I made eye contact with the folks already there and asked, “How’s your day going?”

Usually there’s just some brief chit-chat about whatever, then the ride’s over for some of us, and we go about our business.

But this time, a woman I’d seen around the hospital for weeks met my eyes and said, “Not so good.  I lost my husband this morning.  We’re going up to the room to pick up my things.”

Words failed me.  And for good reason.  There was absolutely nothing I could say to help.  I knew it.  And she knew it.  So except for saying, “I’m sorry,” I said nothing.

We might tend to think this was a failed human interaction.  But I’d suggest to you that it wasn’t.

This woman, overwhelmed with her loss, chose to tell me about it.  Instead of just saying, “Okay.”

And as a result I’ve thought and prayed about her often since that day a few weeks ago.

We shared a few moments of life together.  And it had meaning.

Tonight I had the opportunity to speak to the chapel class at First Colony Church of Christ.

My subject was “Three Ways to Help People Heal.”  Here’s the outline, with links to some blog posts where I’ve discussed the points.

Jesus, the Great Healer, is our model.  (John 8:1-11, Luke 7:36-50)

• He saw.
• He loved.
• He listened.
• He was non-judgmental.
• He offered hope.

1.  Be Present (Jesus saw people.  “Simon, don’t you see this woman?”)

• In person, on the phone, by email, on Facebook, with a text message, with a card or note.
• Be fully focused on them for the time you’re with them.

2.  Project that you like them no matter if they’re physically, emotionally, and/or spiritually not at their best.

• A real smile.
• Eye contact.
• Touch.
• You can do this in person, but you can also do it on the phone, by email, on Facebook, in a text, or in a note.

3.  Listen non-judgmentally (“let him who is without sin cast the first stone”, “neither do I condemn you”).

• Listen to their story.
• Let your body language and words indicate that you heard their story, that you love them, that you care.
• Don’t tell your story or someone else’s story in response.
  • Their story deserves the full spotlight!
  • Telling your story says that you only value their story because you have a story, that theirs is not really important.
• Don’t tell them what they did wrong (they already know).
• Don’t tell them what they should do.
  • That screams, “You’re wrong because you’re not doing what I think you should do.”
  • It’s not your job to fix them.  God is much better at that than you can ever be.

Let God do the heavy stuff.

• Pray.
• Don’t get in the way.
• Point to Him.

So many of our conversations are boring, just chit-chat.

With some intentionality, you can change that.  You can add meaning, make conversations memorable to those you are talking to.

For example, you’re visiting with a guy and he begins telling you about how he has been thinking about his life and that he has made some new decisions.  Say something simple like, “It sounds like you’ve had a break-through in what you want to do with your life.”  He’ll affirm that you’ve understood correctly, and you’ll see that he is visibly encouraged.

Or maybe you’re on Facebook, and you look at a photo.  Instead of just clicking “like” or writing a run-of-the-mill comment, spend a minute thinking about the emotions or value that the photo might represent to the person posting it.  Then write a comment something like, “I can see the pride in her eyes.”  You’ll be surprised how many others will then see pride in the photo and comment on it as well, giving the photo and the conversation meaning.

So here’s a challenge for you today.  Whether in person or on-line, intentionally add meaning to a conversation you’re in today.  Then observe the difference you’ve made in someone’s life.  It’ll make you want to be able to do it frequently!

From the moment I walk in from the garage, I start working on my smile, trying to make eye contact with everyone I meet, to connect, so that when I walk into a patient’s room, they are able to sense that I like them.

As I listened to these words come out of my mouth while teaching a section on closing the interpersonal gap with folks we are visiting, I was a little surprised.

I’m used to things coming out of my mouth that are new thoughts.  I understand that with my personality type that I tend to process thoughts by saying them out loud.  So that was not surprising.

And I was not surprised that I was telling the class that I was intentional in practicing my smile and my eye contact on people that I met in the halls of the hospital.  I’ve talked out loud about that before, even written about it.  And it’s not just for the practice — it’s a genuine attempt to make a difference as I walk the halls.

But I was somewhat surprised that I’d verbally connected it with another very important purpose — helping patients’ first impression of me be that I like them.

Trying to have patients sense immediately that I like them — when they are not at their best physically and emotionally and perhaps spiritually — is a way to show my love for them, to validate them as people.  And if I can be successful in doing that, then there’s a chance that I can have the opportunity to meet some of their other needs.

Mary DeMuth has a site called Family Secrets, and Friday there was a post by Jen that had a lot to say about listening.  Turns out that I was teaching in a seminar for  pastoral caregivers  at Lifeline Chaplaincy on Saturday, so I took special note of what Jen had to say.

Here’s part of the original post Jen was responding to:

I have never been able to go some place and talk about my childhood without being accused of feeling sorry for myself or using others to get therapy sessions; when all I really needed was a friendly shoulder and/or prayers for the new feelings and pain I was experiencing.

Now, here’s what Jen added to the conversation:

You’re stealing someone’s story by either telling something of your own that correlates (to you at least) in order to give it value, thus telling the Teller that their experiences have no value beyond what you have felt or known, OR you are stealing the validity of that person’s feelings by offering a “solution.”

Anytime we listen to someone tell a story, one of our stories that is stored in our memory banks is brought to consciousness.  And that forms the basis of a lot of social conversation — I tell my story, you tell a related story, and we enjoy the time together.  And in a casual social setting, that’s perfectly fine.

But when a friend begins to tell you a story of trauma or illness, then your role in the conversation changes.  It’s time for serious listening, not for chit-chat.  Your story will still come to consciousness, but instead of telling it, use it to help understand something of what the story teller is relating to you.  Because when you tell your story in this kind of situation, you’re devaluing their story, making them not feel heard.  And this advice goes double to those of us who hear such stories in a pastoral caregiving setting.

People who have suffered abuse, those who have suffered trauma, and those who are struggling with severe illness deserve to be heard and their stories valued.  And those of us they honor with their trust need to recognize that we’re on holy ground.