Helium is invisible, and yet it has the power to carry something toward the sky.

 

The other day I was privileged to be with a family having a serious conversation. The stakes were intense, and the feelings were spilling out. Yet there was one person, the hub of the decisions, who struck me as being carried up by something buoyant. He was able to listen to each person's concerns with empathy. He heard the details and fed them back, while also articulating the love that fueled their words. It seemed to lift all of us from the level of strategies to something higher.

It is nifty to be able to pay close attention when someone is reading you a recipe, or giving you directions to the library. 

 

But what happens when we can hear the ethereal things, weighed down as they usually are with worry and nagging?

 

"You love our children and want them to be safe. You are unsure about whether to let them go this weekend. Did I hear what you are saying?"

 

Sometimes I feel discouraged that I can have such a long track record of trying to listen well, and still slam the conversation shut like a prison guard flinging the steel gate. 

 

But other times I feel myself being lifted quietly, gently, by the transcending loft of one person's willingness to make relationships matter more than winning the argument.