“Deep listening… can help relieve the suffering of another person. You can call it compassionate listening. You listen with only one purpose: to help him or her to empty his heart. Even if he says things that are full of wrong perceptions, full of bitterness, you are still capable of continuing to listen with compassion. Because you know that listening like that, you give that person a chance to suffer less.” 

“Central to these ways of defining deep listening is a sense of presence, inner stillness, openness, and mindful attention to what the other communicates in their body, speech, and silence” (as cited in “The Gift of Deep Listening” Psychology Today, 2021, Jessie Stern, Ph.D and Rachel Samson, M.Psych). 

My body, mind, and soul were in pain. After bedrest and extreme conscientiousness, I still lost my baby. I heard all of the traditional platitudes and saccharine, trite sayings—in three cultures and languages no less. Yuck. I felt worse after the proffered “encouragement” and craved intelligent, thoughtful compassion. 

That week in a church gathering everyone was kind, but it was loud, cold, and drafty inside. My body was recovering from miscarriage and hospital procedures, so I wanted a comfortable, quiet place. I slipped outside and found a nice spot in the sun. The mild rays warmed me. The gentle breeze lifted my hair and cooled my face. My aching body relaxed. My friend’s quiet, supportive presence was even more healing. 

She came outside and asked if I was okay. I nodded. She didn’t say another word. She simply sat beside me to indicate, “I love you. I’m here.” She listened to what I had been holding inside. No judgment or response other than, “I’m sorry.” Then we sat together a while without speaking. I knew she had also lost babies, so she understood what I needed. 

My friend held silent vigil with me, honoring and supporting me with her presence. Her life experiences, attentive listening, and adept skills in reading non-verbal communication alleviated my suffering for a few minutes by reminding me I was not alone. I didn’t need her to fix me or the problem. I needed her to be with me and share my suffering. And she did. What a gift!