THE ART OF CONVERSATION
My son and I went on a fishing trip in Idaho once. He was in his teens. I remember we were floating down the river with cliffs on either side. I was taking my rafting very seriously when my son took my arm and shouted, “Dad. Dad. Are you seeing this? Pay attention. You’re going to miss it. Look at how beautiful this is.”
I wonder how often we really think about what we say when we’re introduced to another human being. That first exchange, those first few words, have the power of a raging river, setting a course in motion that steadies us or sweeps us under and away.
Would it surprise you to know that this story of a dad and his son were the first words spoken to me by my surgical oncologist? I was expecting his call. What I didn’t anticipate was being invited in to an intimate, breathtaking moment in his life…a world far from hard news, sterile instruments and gowns that open from the back.
I remember thinking how extraordinary that this man who would soon be exploring the innermost cells of my body could establish such rare intimacy in the span of three minutes on the phone.
I remember thinking he is good at what he does.
Healing, as far as he was concerned, cast its shadow far beyond the boundaries of skin and science to a place within us where our humanity dwells.
Have you thought to marvel at how medicine, the practice of it, is not merely science but an art—
The art of holding silent space for those who are receivers of impossible news
The art of holding out hope when the situation feels a bit grim
The art of holding hand and shoulder to take on a portion of the impact as if it were your own?
Nearly two years from that first conversation, I heard his voice again today. There’s a certain bonding between us like when two people pray.
It occurred to me that I may not be the only one that needed a little reassurance that can only come from being authentic, unafraid.
And so I began, “I am imagining this fishing trip. A father and his son. One pulled under by the rush of life, the other floating on its surface. The same waters. A different point of view."
Dad. Dad. Daddy…Are you seeing this,
Are you with me or am I alone today?*
This existence. These relentless waves.
Sometimes life does its best to distract us from the beauty lingering there…and there…and there—
It is relentless. And fleeting. Temporary. And eternal.
Beautiful all the same.
Notice. Look up. Tell someone. Share.
MORE ON CONVERSATION:*Jeremiah 29:12-13"12 Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart."https://www.sanctuaryliving.life/wp-admin/post.php?post=8997&action=edit&calypsoify=1