"leave a tender moment alone..."

"and if that's how i feel,

then it's the best feeling 

i've ever known; 

it's undeniably real, 

leave a tender moment alone..."

 I was in a friend's waiting room this morning and Billy Joel's  "Leave a Tender Moment Alone,"  came on her office playlist. Because I didn't have a book with me, I sat back and listened to the lyrics. I hadn't heard that song in twenty years. But today, it really spoke to me.

I can't tell you how many times in my life I have felt like I had to say something -- and often, it came out so wrong -- "just to have something to say." 

If there is any one thing that I am most grateful for in this last decades of spiritual growth, it is a willingness to "leave a tender moment alone."  To be at peace with having nothing to say.  To be comfortable with a pause in the conversation so that we - regardless of who I am with -- can listen more deeply for what is right, kind -- truly worthy of saying.  

These "tender moments" are not empty -- they are filled with humility and grace.  They are not full of uncertainty, but rich with confidence. Confidence in our mutual trust -- in the other's deeper conversation with God.  In the silence that informs every next word.  

What a gift this is in a marriage, my relationship with our children, my friendships and my communities of care.  I have never felt that more peacefully than in a recent meeting with a friend.  

It had been weeks since we'd been able to sit across the table from one another.  But with the promise of a beautiful, early autumn day -- and the gift of an outdoor seating area at a nearby cafe, we were able to drop our masks and share a smile.  

We caught up on eachother's "news." We laughed over tea and shared inspiration.  And then there was that pause.  It was so filled with gratitude and love -- that we let it linger.  There was a deep, shared willingness to: 

"Leave a tender moment along..."

 When our conversation resumed, it was with the purest kind of heart-rich wonder.  That tender pause had made space for even more beautiful sharing.  

May all of your conversations today include a pause.  Even the ones that you carry on -- completely within.  As I think about it, I wonder if perhaps this is what I have learned from spending so much quiet time with our dogs.  How to listen-- and how to enjoy tender moments without the need to fill them with words.  Leaning into an interlude of grace.  Poised in the pause. 

with Love, 

Cate