The Sacrament of Presence

Presence practiced meets the definition of a sacrament: “…an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace….”

It is in the listening that the “outward and visible sign” becomes “an inward and spiritual grace”, a blessing to “…him who gives and him who takes…”

The spouse or adult child, overwhelmed by the moment comes armed with lists, demands and questions.  As listener, I am aware of the dual conversation emanating from this person in pain.  I hear the words from the mouth, and I listen to the sounds of the heart expressed through the face, voice and body.  The family member may or may not know they are screaming at the bottom of their lungs for someone to offer them the solace of listening.  As listener, I extend the invitation to, “tell me about you”.  And it is at that moment that the sacramental grace occurs between family member and listener.

Finding shelter in the ears of the listener, family members are surprised at the ease in which they begin the journey of healing.  Most often, it is unexpected; always it is inward and spiritual grace.

“I always promised my parents that we would not put them in a nursing home”, the 40ish-looking young man said as he walked in.  He began asking for brochures, wanting to see the results of our last State survey.”  He rattled off questions as if afraid to take a breath for fear of imploding. “What is your staff-to-patient ratio?  Do you have a doctor in the facility five days a week?"  His elderly mother, by his side looked at me.  I could see the fear in her eyes.  Her silence seemed to be apologizing for her son’s barrage of questions.

As I introduced myself, I purposely did not let go of her hand and guided her into the conference room, which was the nearest safe place I could find.  I think I broke his train of questions, so he followed us.

In the safety of the room, I responded, “I did too.  We said the same thing to my parents.  And you just reminded me how painful it was for me. I never want to forget what that time was like.”  His whole body seemed to come to a standstill, as if he’d met an old friend for the first time.

The mother reached out and held her son’s hand.  They sat there in silence.  As they began again, to share of the precipitating moment that had brought them to us, the sounds of the heart drowned out the words of the mouth. And communion happened.  She talked of her fifty year marriage, their struggles to raise a family of four.  The son talked about fishing with his Dad.  Then and only then, were we able to begin talking about Dad and what he was going to need.

.  Human nature would have us label and assume that we know “where that person is coming from”.  Listening, however, keeps one from applying clichés and quick answers to the other person’s walk. 

As a woman on Face Book said, describing a story of two parents dealing with their child’s sudden illness, “This is a beautiful story and if you've ever been there you appreciate the river of denial as a healing stream that keeps you afloat until you can find some footing.”

And so the “outward and visible sign” of trust becomes the “inward and spiritual grace” of healing. And, we are both blessed.