#299: Time

On April 26th, six years ago, my sisters and I lost our dad. As I've written about in my own writings, he was someone who always tried to be present with others. He was there for us every chance he could be, fully present with listening ears wide open. In Christina's blog below, she reminds me of the power of listening to understand rather than respond. And that even a seemingly small moment or interaction shared with someone else can be a valuable one, as one's time and attention can't be borrowed. Christina - thank you for your awareness and your expression of gratitude here. 

- Amanda

Time

He could have just said I’d be away. But he didn’t and I guess this is why it stuck with me:

I was sitting at a picnic table at Soul, the local brewery we go to sometimes after pickup soccer on Sundays. A group of eight or so of us lingered around the table, salty elbows and hands between cold glasses of beer, kissed-warm by the sun. We were discussing the idea of a team barbecue, and as I mentally ran through my calendar to check dates that were being tossed around, one of the guys said:

“We can’t that weekend, Christina will be in Utah.” 

It was nice that he wanted to make sure everyone could be there, but that wasn’t why this stuck with me either. It was the fact that he said, specifically, that I’d be in Utah.

I thought about how easy it is to overlook the details. How I myself have done this, especially when it’s someone I’m not particularly close with or don’t know much about.

Maybe that’s why, when he recalled the detail of my story, I thought, “Wow, he was really listening earlier when I mentioned the trip I was excited about.” It was a small thing, a minor detail. But it made me feel heard. Valued.

It’s not lost on me that the word “pay” is often placed before “attention.” That “give” is a close runner up. There is intrinsic value in the transaction.

Today happens to be the day that 6 years ago my Dad left the earth. One of the last things he posted on Facebook was a quote he must have come across and shared because it resonated with him, too. 

It read:

“The greatest gift we can give someone is our time, because we’re giving them something we will never make back.”

Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence that around this time of the year I experienced a small, but very important reminder of how true that is. Of how meaningful our time and attention can be when given fully. And the impact it might have for the person on the other end.