Listening is the glue that binds us

​I had lunch with my friend Chuck yesterday. I've known Chuck for over a decade but hadn't seen him in over five years.

A lot can change in five years.

Since the last time I saw Chuck, I've experienced divorce and Chuck's wife Kim has been diagnosed with frontotemporal dementia (FTD, as in Bruce Willis dementia).

Chuck has shared openly on social media about the challenges of caring for someone battling this disease. Not just someone, but his best friend, the person he loves most.

Every time I saw one of Chuck's posts, something told me to reach out to him. Yet I kept saying no to that something.

I'm not sure why that is. It's worth wondering about, though.

Maybe when the battle is something I am completely unfamiliar with, I feel completely incapable of being a part of a healing conversation.

Maybe when my own battles, as hard as they've been, seem so insignificant in comparison to Chuck's battle, I'd feel guilty sitting in Chuck's presence.

Maybe when I get to believing a battle is beyond anyone's help at all, I excuse myself from exploring the truth of that.

I don't know. I don't know why I hesitated to do something I continually felt called to do. But a couple of weeks ago the call got too loud, and it became clear it wasn't going away.

So, I reached out.

I sat and listened to Chuck tell his story yesterday. A story that seems to flow between confusion and fear and anger. Flow is probably the wrong word; it sounds too peaceful.

Maybe torrent is a better fit there.

I told Chuck at the beginning of our conversation that I had no advice. That I'd likely be at a complete loss of words. But I also told him I had an endless ear. I could listen and hear anything he had to say without judgment or diagnosis or assessment of any kind.

That's a helpful thing to do, I've discovered. In the act of listening, relieve yourself of any responsibility to judge or assess or fix.

I was reminded of that powerfully yesterday. That listening itself is a sweet and precious form of energy that connects two or more people.

Sweet and precious listening.

Not listening AND response.

Not listening AND advice.

Not listening AND deciding how I feel about what I just heard.

Just. Simply. Listen.

Listening is like invisible glue, and maybe that explains in some part why we are all in many ways unglued.

I hugged Chuck when I left yesterday. I don't know if Chuck felt better. I don't know if I helped. And I don't care.

Not because I don't care about Chuck, but because I didn't show up with the intention of helping, I showed up with the intention of listening.

Silently listening is one of the most powerful ways to shout, I am here to help if you ever know of something I can do that will be helpful.

And listening isn't always about helping the other, it's often about helping ourselves.

Chuck's story was personally challenging, challenging in a good way.

It's a story of immeasurable courage. I left wanting to be more courageous.

It's a story of going all in on having the back of the person he loves most. I left wanting to double down on having my boys' backs always.

It was a story of just taking the next step. I know most days the last several years Chuck has had zero idea what the next best step is. But he's always known how to take A next step, no matter what, and that's what he's done.

I left reminded of the power of taking A next step.

I left Chuck a little ashamed I took so long to answer the call to reach out. But I left reminded of the power of listening no matter when it is that you show up.

A power I know I will feel the next time I feel the nudge to reach out to someone.

If you're ignoring a nudge today because listening is all you have, don't ignore the nudge. If listening is all you have, then all you have is a superpower.

Share it.

Share it for the one you'll listen to, and maybe most of all, share it for you.

Share it because listening truly is the glue.