There’s a podcast episode from the Robcast where he talks about how he used to go into relationships and situations to extract something from them, and now enters in for the sheer joy of being present to them.
And those kinda truths just hit me upside the head.
Because I tend to do the same. I go into something to glean, soak up, squeeze out, pull from.
But what if it’s not about how I can take, but to simply let it take me to a new place?
To learn from. To be privy to. To enjoy. To notice. To simply be in the presence of what this person or this conversation or this experience is and let that be enough.
I’ve been noticing this funny thing we women do. We share stories. Great stories. Stories about what we’re experiencing and how we’re growing. Stories that begin with “God is teaching me…”
Faith stories. Simple stories. And before the other person has finished sharing her heart, isn’t it easy to rush in and share our story? What we’re learning, how our faith is deep too? About how we’re experiencing this and that and before we know it, does it sometimes feel like a “This is what I’m learning” competition, voices layering over the other without truly letting the other add a period to her sentence before I rush in to share my perspective?
Somewhere in this madness I think, Who cares about my story? It doesn’t always need to be told. Or heard. Maybe part of noticing how to learn from others means keeping my mouth closed. And listening. Fully listening. Without adding my two-sense or my version or my thoughts.
Maybe a wise way of living to is to allow more people to add periods to the end of their stories. To be their pupil. And let learning be our teacher for the day.