One of the looms upon which we weave our spiritual lives is our family. In a real sense we never truly ‘leave our family’ (Consider: the definition of ‘family’ varies from person to person and this is important to remember – I have been a member of a number of different ‘families’ and each continues to impact, if not directly influence, who I am and who I am choosing to become).
‘Family Life’ is inherently humbling and it is a garden that can provide us the ground for seeding and nurturing the tap roots of spiritual practices and disciplines. These tap roots enable us to nurture our relationships with ‘family members’ and with others and with our God. One of these spiritual practices is called ‘Attending.’
‘Attending’ is rooted in the Latin ‘tendere’ – ‘to hold.’ Consider these words of Robert Kegan: Not a solution to a problem, the gift of my analytic mind. Not advice, the gift of my wise experience. Not reassurance, the gift of my own faith or optimism. Not even consolation, the gift of my sympathy, but accompaniment, attending to the other’s experience, making known my efforts to understand.
‘Attending’ is one way of being with another person – a gift of ‘presence’ that nurtures both souls. I am attended to when the other seeks to understand what my experience feels like (we call this ‘empathy’). I am attended to when the other walks with me as I stumble along on my life’s path – the other walks with me, the other does not attempt to ‘fix me.’
I have a good friend that knows me so well that when we are conversing on the phone she will be able to sense when I am not ‘attending to her’ – that my mind is wandering – and she will lovingly ‘call me back’ in order to be present with her. An admonition and a gift in one ‘package.’
When I am at my best I am aware of when I am choosing not to ‘attend’ and when I am not at my best I am susceptible to being distracted and hence it is a challenge for me to ‘attend to’ the other. If I am awake and aware and paying attention I also notice when I am not attending. Then, my tendency is to offer, not accompaniment but the more familiar gifts of ‘solutions,’ ‘advice’ or ‘reassurance.’
Attending is challenging and, at times, risky for it asks us to set aside our agendas. Attending also invites us into the realm of uncertainty and imperfection – the realm where we have to admit that we do not have all of the solutions or answers. To put it another way: Our way of loving might not be the way the other needs to be loved. How often does our caring actually contribute to the pain we are attempting to prevent or alleviate? ‘Attending’ enables me to hold the other in tenderness, compassion and empathy and provides me the opportunity to love the other as he or she needs to be loved.
In the end all that matters is love and friendship. –Robert K. Greenleaf