Difficult Seasons

© Jim Hughes 2010

We’re back in Florida to visit Eloise’s brother Steve who’s in hospice.

When we made the reservations over a week ago, we didn’t really know if he’d still be alive. And in fact, last Sunday night, the hospice folks really didn’t think he’d make it through the night. But he’s rallied, and we got to spend some good time with him today.

What I noticed most was how aware he was of our presence, and that he heard everything we said, even when we thought he was asleep. He’s having a hard time putting words to his thoughts, and it’s very difficult to understand him, but we managed to have some short conversations.

I was reminded how important presence is — whether there is a conversation or not. Steve mostly slept this afternoon, and Eloise and I would read or just sit. But every so often, Steve would open his eyes and look at us, and every once in a while he’d say something or try to answer a question.

I could tell he’s glad we’re here to spend some time with him. And I’m glad too.

I think I underestimate the impact of just showing up in a patient’s room.

I know I’ve written and spoken about the importance of presence.  And I really do believe that just showing up is a really important part of what we do.  It’s just that I still underestimate its real impact.  I tend to think that the visits where I’ve had a deep conversation with a patient are where I’ve had real impact.

But a couple of recent incidents are helping me better realize the pure value of  presence.

Recently a colleague who visits the same patients a couple of days after I do told me, “Several people commented about how important your visits were to them this week.”

I tried and tried, and for the life of me, I couldn’t think of a single visit that week that I thought was worthy of that compliment.  It had been a week of visits without real engagement, without deep dialogue.

Then today, I entered a patient’s room and was greeted by name and treated like a lifelong friend.  I was surprised because my only visit with these folks had been last week when they were both trying to rest and in which we only exchanged a couple of sentences and had prayer.  I was probably in the room only three minutes total.

The only explanation is that there is simply a lot more impact on people from just showing up than I feel — even if it’s only for a couple of minutes and no real conversation happens.

I need to come to grips with the fact that what’s  meaningful to patients may be different than what seems meaningful to me.  God does amazing things with the simple act of being present, making a much greater impact that all of the listening and conversational skills I take pride in.  So why is it so hard for us to learn and accept this simple truth?

Hospital

Although it’s been 12 years since I spent time in the hospital with a heart attack, I remember who came to visit while I was there.

I don’t remember what they said.  I do remember that they were present.

The other time I was in the hospital was 25 years ago.  And yes, I remember who came to visit me that time too.  And no, I don’t remember what they said.

Making hospital visits, providing what experts call “Pastoral Care,” is about presence.

It’s not about saying the right thing.  Or about saying something profound.  Or about having answers to difficult questions.

It’s about being present with someone who’s going through a difficult season, and letting your presence demonstrate your caring and love for them.  And about showing the love of God for them by doing so.

Sure, you’ll have a conversation.  Hopefully, you’ll do more listening than talking.  But even if the whole visit only lasts two minutes and very little is said, your presence will be remembered long after your words are forgotten.

And if you just have to have something meaningful and profound to say while you’re there, try this:  “I care about you, and I wanted to come visit so you’d know.”