A STOIC SMILE and a hearty grimace; these were the only hints in the barista’s demeanour that life’s a struggle just now. No matter how brave we get we need love to smoothen our battered shores. All it took was fleeting mutual eye contact to say, “I hear you.”
Relationships and character growth are what really matter. Everything else, in comparison, bears little resemblance to matters of significance.
A moment’s trifling sadness can be amended as soon as we gather the poise to look someone in the eye who is doing it tougher than we are. And, if it’s required we can sit there with them and listen in to their heart cry, for some heart cries have the depths of the abyss about them.
Listening is the kindness and portion of God; even better when it comes nonverbally.
Hearts can be read without words; eyes can be seen and believed; quivering chins are confirmation; these are vouchsafed in the sweeping majesty of gloomy tears.
Heart stories are not told, just felt. They’re communicated through look and touch. Listening to people’s heart stories is simply the patience and majesty of honouring them with our full presence.
© 2011 S. J. Wickham.