Listening to Love

“We prick up our ears and open our hearts”

I recently came across this beautiful sentence in the children’s book De Bellende Engel by Stephanie Biesheuvel. The book hasn’t been translated into English, but if it had been, the title would be 'The Calling Angel'. Reading children’s books isn’t something I used to do, but now, for educational reasons, I’ve started doing it anyway. What an enrichment that is—unbelievable! The language in children’s books is simpler, yet at the same time warmer and more descriptive. Definitely something to inspire me in my own writing. And on top of that, these books are nice and simple and relaxing. Very nice! And now “coincidence” would have it (there is no such thing as coincidence in God’s world!) that the subject of the book turned out to be exactly what I needed this week.

The book is about a statue that apparently really exists on the cathedral in 's-Hertogenbosch, called The Calling Angel. It’s a small statue of an angel, wearing jeans, a sweater, and holding a smartphone to her ear. People from all over the world apparently come to Den Bosch to see it. I’d never heard of it before, but anyway. So the book is based on that.

In the book, the statues have a secret call centre that takes calls from children at night. They listen to the children and give them the opportunity to share all their worries with them. The underlying idea is that children don’t always dare to do that with their parents, brothers, sisters, or other family members, and that a listening ear can ease their worries. However, there is one important rule for the listening (living) statues: “We prick up our ears and open our hearts.” That is the only thing they do and are allowed to do by their coordinator, the Calling Angel herself. One of the statues, Gargo, however, disagrees and also wants to offer advice. He finds it extremely frustrating that he can only listen, and is not allowed to do anything more than that. He is an old gargoyle, has hundreds of years of life experience, and feels he possesses so much wisdom that it’s a shame he has to watch the children suffer when his advice could actually help them. But unfortunately, Angel won't budge an inch. “We listen, and that's more than enough!” she says.

Well, I wish I had Angel's wisdom! But unfortunately, I have to admit that I'm more like Gargo than Angel. I really experienced that firsthand last week. Someone in my Twelve Step program truly opened my eyes to this, and for that I am very grateful to her.

When someone shares with me how they’re doing, when people tell me about their struggles, I listen. I don’t interrupt them and let them speak at length. But I do listen with the goal of giving feedback afterward. I try to “pick up on” things in my head, to see what I can identify with and what experience, strength, and hope I can share afterward. The underlying message is clear: “I, the Great Nathalie with so much recovery experience (ahem!), know exactly what you need. If you do what I do, you’ll feel better. But since I know you won’t take it from me if I tell you what to do, I frame it from my own perspective, and you can choose for yourself what resonates with you and what works for you. But trust me, do what I do, and you’ll feel much better in no time!”

Now, to be fair, this is already a lot better than how I used to handle things. Until a few years ago, I wouldn’t let others finish speaking, I’d interrupt them if I didn’t share their opinion, and I’d tell them straight up what to do. Believe me, that approach didn’t work at all. Sponsees (women I sponsor) actually left me because of it. And rightly so, in hindsight.

But still, it can be better—much better. I’ve definitely noticed that over the past week. I still don’t listen with an open mind, still not for the sake of listening itself, or simply being present for the other person. I listen so I can give feedback afterward. I do always ask first if the other person wants feedback, but I only realized this week that others (and myself!) often answer that question in the affirmative out of politeness, or because they think, “Well, if it doesn’t help, it doesn’t hurt.” But you know, sometimes it does hurt. Sometimes it hurts big time, actually. It hurts others when I give feedback, but it also hurts me when others give it to me.

This leads me to my next question: when is giving feedback appropriate, and when is it not? I got the answer yesterday from a sponsee. I discussed this issue with her, and her response helped me put the pieces of the puzzle together. When we feel emotionally stable, when we feel good and there’s mental space for out-of-the-box thinking, that’s when we can hear, understand, and accept feedback. Then we can hear the experience, strength, and hope of others, discern what’s right for us, and then apply it on our own lives. But when we feel emotionally vulnerable, feedback can actually be very destructive. Then it feels unsafe. It feels as though we aren’t good enough, as though we aren’t accepted or loved for who we are. At such moments, feedback does far more harm than good, and what we need is simply for the other person to be there for us and listen to us.

I’ve been sponsoring other women for 4.5 years now, but I didn’t know that. I’ve never been able to make that distinction. As a sponsor, I always just asked if the other person wanted feedback, and then gave it. Strangely enough, because I’ve often seen how my feedback is received negatively by others. I’ve experienced it myself: receiving feedback when I can’t handle it, causing me a lot of pain—even though that’s not the other person’s intention at all. When I feel vulnerable, I need only one thing: a listening ear. And when I get that, I feel loved, safe, and accepted. No one tries to fix or repair me then.

And yet. When I’m the one listening, and I can’t give the other person feedback, it makes me feel uncomfortable. Extremely uncomfortable, even. Because what do you say when someone has finished their story? “Thank you for sharing this with me,” I always say. But that often feels like it's not enough, as if I don't care enough about the other person to really engage with it, as if I actually want to say: “Okay, can we move on now? Enough with your whining, let's talk about something else,” which of course isn't true.
But what do you say instead?

A few years ago, I read the book “I Don't Have to Make Everything All Better” by Gary B. Lundberg and Joy Saunders Lundberg. I thought it was a wonderful book because the authors provide concrete tools on how to listen. What they recommend is validating others. When people are sharing something, don’t jump in with suggestions, but acknowledge the other person’s pain and invite them to continue. You can do this by saying things like: “That doesn’t sound easy” (and then pausing), “What was that like for you?”, “What did you feel in that moment?”, or a simple “Uh-huh,” which encourages the other person to continue. The authors write that the other person then often finds their own answer. That they reflect further and eventually say something like: “Well, maybe I was also in the wrong for snapping at him like that in the first place. Maybe next time I can be a little more patient, or actually tell him right away that I don’t really like the topic of conversation and ask if we could talk about something else.” In this way, people have the justified feeling that the answers lie within themselves, and that they are not dependent on others to steer their lives in the right direction. It gives them a greater sense of autonomy, something we all need. I know that I benefit from feeling autonomous, when I can think and care for myself. When others listen to me and give me space to discover myself, I feel seen, accepted, and empowered in who I am. I know then that I can handle the world on my own and don’t need anyone to save me. To walk alongside me on my path, yes. To save me, no.

I’ve applied the advice in this book before, but not enough yet. I realize I lack the skills to do this successfully. Because I really want to grow in this area, I’m going to read the book—which I borrowed from the library back then—again. I’ve already placed the hold; now I just have to wait until I can pick it up at my local library!

I trust that God will guide me through this process, because He has already done so over the past week. The fact that I realize that I am not always the best listener is already a big step. And the fact that I am writing this blog post now is also a great start. The rest will surely follow!