How Are You?

There’s an art in sharing oneself.

I've discovered in most friendships that it is much easier to listen and to ask questions than to share (unless it’s trite facts). I find I feel a little smug when I’ve finished an hour and a half conversation with someone that is all about them.

Then a thought dawns on me. What if when I stand before God expecting praise for my listening ability, He looks sadly at me and asks why I was so stingy with myself?

Ninety or more percent of those I talk to actually don’t want to know any details of my life. I’m sure you’ve found that too. You begin to share something on your heart or answer their question about how you are when you notice they have mentally vacated the premises. Or you share something troubling you and they have an over-simplified, patronising solution that you’ve never found to work. Or you are told that how you feel is not a valid feeling, so you leave feeling worse than when you’d arrived.

I have a friend who I help with vacuuming once a month. The best part is sitting down with her after it’s over. I’ve shared my broken heart with her, and she empathised. I've poured out frustrations, and she sides with me. She doesn’t have pat answers. She doesn’t over-spiritualize. She just cares about me. Throughout our time, she also shares—she tells me of her struggle with grief over her mother’s death and the holidays coming. She has shared her couple-decade-old-hopes that never became reality. She listens and she shares. It’s a rare gift. I treasure those moments.

It seems easier to share with some I’ve never met. It’s often easier to think things through in e-mails and remember to ask things of which you may or may not be interested, because it’s staring at you in black and white. When you’re face to face, though, what you ask or what you share is what is most prominent on your heart or mind.

It’s safer not to share. Rejection, of any kind, pierces deep. 

Do you find it easy to share yourself with others? Why or why not? Who do you have to listen to your hopes and dreams and to trust you with their own?

The Architecture of Friendship

I've been contemplating lately what endears me to another person turning them into a friend.

In an essay I wrote as a child, the two characteristics I noted as being of top importance are honesty and loyalty. These are what I look for and admire in anyone with whom I interact. This is just a basis for friendship, but doesn't make a friend.

A friend is someone with a foundation of honesty (about his/herself and about me) and loyalty (he/she "has my back"). Upon this, four walls rest: depth (thought and conversation), humour, safety, and the appreciation of beauty (trivial and profound). The best friendships are housed under the roof of friendship with God (it may be argued that God is the foundation, but that's a different metaphor).

Depth: The best conversations are ones that interest all participants, are contributed to by all, and stretch the mind. These conversations are rare, but, when found, take moments to produce growth that usually takes years.

Humour: Anyone who knows me, even on the most superficial level, knows my appreciation for humour. Anyone who can make me laugh or, even better, can laugh beside me cannot be far akin from me. My family grew up laughing. Our humour often comes off dry and sarcastic, but is not usually meant to demean or belittle. So many times my humour goes over people's heads. Occasionally, I'll say something, expecting the necessity to explain, but the person understands. The relief of being understood!

Safety: Many people will share, but few will listen. How many times have you had someone ask how you are and never stop to hear? It's a cliché. Most people want you to be well, because they are too burdened or excited by their own world to care about yours. Few, precious few, listen anymore. I need to be careful that I do not become jaded. I find I hold back from most people, because I have seen too many times how little they care. They are not a safe place. You can't be vulnerable without fear of hurt. A true friend is safe. Even if they have to tell you you're wrong, it comes from their heart. The wound is healing.

"A friend is a person with whom I may be sincere. Before him I may think aloud." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Appreciation: At times, life may seem dark and hopeless. Yet, even in the dark, there is a longing for what is lovely. I gravitate to ones who see in the tiny ant or snowflake the profound creativity of God.

In college, one of my good friends, Masha, would always look up into the sky and comment on the beauty of the clouds or the sunset. She taught me to look up. To this day, whenever I appreciate the beauty of God's upper canvas, I think of Masha.

G.K. Chesterton wrote, "The hopeful element in the universe has in modern times continually been denied and reasserted; but the hopeless element has never for a moment been denied."

In a publicity teleseminar yesterday, the PR expert said that now is the best time for hopeful stories, because our nation (indeed the world) is on overload from all the bad news.

Friends, who can see beauty in the grand and insignificant, help to lift our focus from the dirt to the sky.

Your turn. What is your definition of a friend?

Listening: a thread or an iceburg?

A friend of mine and I recently chatted about the art of listening. We analyzed why a group of our new friends were unique in the way that they listened. We could all be in separate conversations and yet we knew what someone else from our group was saying. Even at a slight distance, our ears would pick up the sound of their voice and what they said. We didn't consciously choose; we almost couldn't help it.

Have you had people in your life like that? They have been rare in mine. I have many who hear me everyday, but few who take the time to listen. I've seen the vacancy in faces acknowleging my voice; their mind rushing through their own thoughts, ready for the next topic. I close my soul to them.

My friend and I likened the art of listening to someone picking up the end of a thread and following it to its source. In conversation, every sentence is just the tip of an iceburg. What is unsaid is fathoms deep compared with a comment. If you care about someone, you ache to know the depths of who they are. You are not content to take the face value. You don't want to just hear words, you want to hear them.

When was the last time someone listened to you, really listened? When was the last time you listened to someone else? Sometimes it comes as natural as breathing. Most of the time it takes effort. If you care about someone, savor not just the words they say, relish the person. This moment could be the last time you have to hear the sound of their voice, longings of their heart, whispers of their soul. Be still. Listen.