When my kids - or my husband - jokingly call me "doctor," I know I have offered too much advice, whether personal or medical. It's so easy for me to do! (And isn't that what mothers are supposed to do? Wasn't the first wife called a HELP-mate?!)
But if I am honest, I have to admit that I also don't like to be told how to live my life, though I do appreciate being listened to... and feeling understood.
Which is why these words of Henri Nouwen jump out when I read them:
"... when we honestly ask ourselves which persons in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not-knowing, not-curing, not-healing, and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is the friend who cares."
(Out of Solitude, p. 38)
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