Is it raining with you?

I remind myself every morning: Nothing I say this day will teach me anything. So if I’m going to learn, I must do it by listening. – L. King

People sometimes need to talk. And always, it seems, to talk to me. I do not mean the sharing of great philosophies or the sagas of illustrious ancestors. I mean the minutiae of their lives. And the majority of these sharers have something in common. They do not check to see if I am okay with being on the receiving end. Maybe it’s me, not them, who had a terrible day. Maybe it’s me, not them, who is eaten away by sadness. Maybe it’s me, not them, who just needs to sit in silence with a friend and maybe weep a little.

But my faith says do it. My faith demands it. Be there for them. All of them. I can take my tribulations back home anyway afterwards and open a beer while I process them. Often I don’t need to find peace by unloading onto others. But it would be lovely to be asked now and again. A bit like how you knock on a door before going in. It’s a gesture.