Last night I had a friend over for dinner, and we talked and talked. We talked about a book we'd both read and laughed over because it was so awful. We talked about exciting and calming things that had happened since we'd last seen each other. She brought two roses cut fresh from her garden--the last two full ones she had on her rosebush. I handled the thorny stems gently as I transferred them to a vase and set them on the dining room table, and then we nibbled on lasagna I had made--her favorite food. We ate bread pudding that I had made from a recipe in the back of the dreadful novel we had read, and we agreed that it was the best part about the book. We talked quietly about the difficulties of our lives, and I spent a long time listening softly as she shared with me a difficult story that she hadn't yet shared with anyone else.
That, there--that is what spiritual companioning looks like to me. It is mutual presence, openness, attention to the details that matter, and easiness; it's the sharing of everything from joy to sorrow. It is listening without judgment. It is responding in love and with deep kindness.
I've spent a good deal of time noticing my weaknesses lately, but last night I noticed one of my great strengths. In my vulnerable listening, I am a strong companion. Out of silence, Spirit speaks through the tears and tremors and tentative smiles of my friend, and my heart perceives messages that run deeper than words.
But I have yet to fully accept the companionship of others when I am the one who brings tears, tremors, and tentative smiles. What trust it takes! What boldness, when trust has been violated in the past!
My friend inspires me to trust more readily when my fear might otherwise paralyze me. Step by small step, I inch forward. By receiving her trust, I expand my own capacity to trust, to draw Spirit's breath into my body and live.
That, there--that is what spiritual companioning looks like to me. It is mutual presence, openness, attention to the details that matter, and easiness; it's the sharing of everything from joy to sorrow. It is listening without judgment. It is responding in love and with deep kindness.
I've spent a good deal of time noticing my weaknesses lately, but last night I noticed one of my great strengths. In my vulnerable listening, I am a strong companion. Out of silence, Spirit speaks through the tears and tremors and tentative smiles of my friend, and my heart perceives messages that run deeper than words.
But I have yet to fully accept the companionship of others when I am the one who brings tears, tremors, and tentative smiles. What trust it takes! What boldness, when trust has been violated in the past!
My friend inspires me to trust more readily when my fear might otherwise paralyze me. Step by small step, I inch forward. By receiving her trust, I expand my own capacity to trust, to draw Spirit's breath into my body and live.
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