inciting insight

Last night I was reminded of the beauty of time, as well as the tenderness and joy that have the ability to seep out of a memory if you allow it to do so — if you are willing to create a space open to the invitation of moments passed.

After briefly meeting an elderly couple at one of the churches I tried a few weeks ago, I found myself pleasantly surprised by a phone call last week inviting me over for dinner. I did not know them, but I would learn a lot about their lives in the upcoming visit. Smiling, I couldn’t help feeling fond of the idea of a caring old couple extending kindness and hospitality to someone new to their city.

I found myself greeted by a warm embrace as I entered their cozy condo, and the smells that can only be produced by an Oma’s cooking danced around my nostrils as we took a seat around the table.

Fellowship. A word described as “friendly relationship; companionship”, and something I have been familiar and had countless experiences with for as long as I have been alive. This word – very well known to me, took perfect form as the three of us sat eating and talking, listening and nodding. We spent time in each other’s company, as our bellies became full.

I asked all about their lives; how they had met, about their children and grandchildren, their work and their family history. I was assisted in navigating the connections between all the family photos. We talked for hours.

A couple things struck me as the evening moved onward.

The first being how much pride the elderly man exuded as he spoke of his family heritage. I have always been fascinated by the stories of my own grandparents’ childhoods, captivated by the idea of a completely alternate reality. Picturing how differently they lived, and how they enjoyed the simplicities life had to offer, while going through times of great struggle as well.

As he spoke of his family tree, dating all the way back to his parents’ life story, I realized – as I have before with my own grandparents – how important his lineage is to him. How proud he is of where he has come from and who he has become, but most importantly, the group of people he is part of. He knew every date, every name and every event that has shaped him, affecting either his relatives or himself directly. It was incredibly interesting to sit there and listen to him paint a picture of a different world lived, one he has experienced in his lifetime. I admired the way his passion shone through as he recounted different milestones, scouring the memory bank in his mind for things he wished to share.

I have noticed before, and I noticed again how rooted my grandparents’ generation is in their history. They have taken it upon themselves to etch the facts in their hearts, and why shouldn’t they? They have worked so hard for what they have, and they have come from so little. They are full of so much honour and respect for their lineage. We should all make a point of knowing where we have come from, and the people who have leant a hand in helping mold us into who we are today. Their generation relied so much on storytelling – on simply remembering. Without technology, the information was passed down through verbal communication, and that in itself is such a beautiful and often lost normality.  

I hope that my generation can learn from the ones who have come before us and make a point in not only knowing about our genealogies but appreciating them for all that they are.

As I was sitting there it struck me how important it is to people to feel heard. Listened to. Even when they are older and take longer to get the point across or remember all the specifics. It matters to them to remember those details, and they want to share their lives with you. You cannot exchange that for anything – being there, being present, and caring enough to take the time to listen.

Listening seems to be far too underrated far too often. Especially in the world we are living in where multi tasking is a seventh sense, and it is easy to listen without listening. To hear something, but fail to let it take full effect on your heart or your mind, to let a passing comment or statement be just that: passing.

I won’t bog you down with the shortcomings of millennials, however it did help me gain a deeper appreciation of the undying value that comes with listening to another person. Nothing will ever change how much that means to someone.

To be compassionate, attentive, and listen in a way in which your sole purpose is to hear what they are saying. How wonderful it is to be able to give this small gift; it is a quality I never cease to notice in people when I am the one sharing my thoughts and opinions with them.

Be patient, be present, be attentive to everything that comes your way. People are sharing things with you for a reason, and it means more to them than you’ll ever fully realize.

A