We learn so much from our children. How to slow down, how to speed up, how not to behave. How to be present, mindful, and attentive to immediate needs. I’m not always entirely mindful and I certainly find myself easily distracted–it’s not just the phone I need to put down. Yet one low moment of distraction came to light late last summer when my 4 year-old literally put his body between my phone and my face to get my attention.
But ever since August I’ve felt more aware of the moments that pile on and feel more able to witness those I am lucky enough to work with and those with whom I am lucky enough to spend time. I enjoy clinical medicine more since I felt a more intimate proximity to my own mortality. I enjoy my children more and my time alone more, too.
It’s often those much younger and those much older and more experienced that clarify issues and help us focus the lens. It seems to me the simplicity of knowing what to do and what matters most stems up from those at the periphery. I’m not saying those of us stuck in the middle of this generational sandwich don’t have insight, I just think we draw heavily from those for whom we are indebted for their pace, their age, and their innocence.
I learn so much from children every day. In clinic today my stomach dropped at one point simply because of the story shared by a 6 year-old. The day had been laid out differently because at our morning huddle in clinic we review comments that come in. A patient had detailed in a comment card that he/she felt the nurse and medical assistant had spent more time listening to them than the doctor had. Sometimes we can do such a bad job showing those for whom we care we’re listening. It’s pretty obvious that as we work hard to witness our lives we often get more quiet. I feel so much more porous to the lessons in this wicked-packed-full-generational sandwich. Which reminded me of this:
Over the weekend, our 6 year-old, who is 3/4 of the way through Kindergarten, was asked what advice he had to offer his 2 friends as they readied to start school next fall. The boys and their fathers waiting, he apparently let a bloated beat of time pass and then said:
It’s a lot more fun when you listen well.
Isn’t that the truth — for all of us.