The beauty of unbusyness

I grew up in a small town (yes, I’m a small-town girl – no, I won’t start singing a Journey song).  My parents grew up there too and most of my grandparents. I also had the amazing blessing of having 3 other sets of grandparents.  One of my grandpas had 7 siblings, 3 of whom lived nearby and none of whom had grandkids when I was born…so I was kind of a granddaughter to all of them. 

We would go “visiting” to see Bob and Lois or Phil and Elaine.  Elaine always said, “Oh!  I have something for you!” when we walked into their house. She would go running down the hallway to her bedroom and come out with some treasure from Avon (I only realized as an adult she stocked up for whatever little girl stopped by but, boy, did that make me feel special!).

We lived across the street from Betty and Ole (his name was Leo but I mispronounced it) when I was 3.  I would use my parents’ cassette tape recorder’s microphone, stand next to the TV, and record The Donny and Marie Show.  The next day I would go see Betty and Ole to play it back and perform for them along with the tape.  One of the last times I saw Leo, he said, “I thought for sure you’d end up at the Grand Ole Opry!” 

I still feel so fortunate to have had so many grandparents loving me!

Busy, busy, busy

Elaine died 11 years ago and I attended her funeral – and realized just how long it had been since I had “visited.”  The foolishness of youth, I guess, when you can’t be bothered just to visit.  The busyness of youth. 

Bob and Lois had retired to Arizona by then and Betty and Leo to Arkansas, but Phil still lived nearby half of the year.  I was pregnant at Elaine’s funeral and decided I would “go visiting” Uncle Phil with my child.

I have spent the last 10 years driving 1 ½ hours each way to visit Uncle Phil.  Some visits were longer if we stayed for a meal. Many visits though were only an hour, especially after his second stroke when it was harder for him to talk and he tired more quickly.  Three hours of driving for one hour of visiting – completely worth it.

Our visit a week ago was only 30 minutes long.  I have become friends with Phil’s daughter-in-law Melinda as I’ve connected with her more and more to schedule visits because phone calls were hard for Phil.  We joined them on one of their scheduled visits last summer, to talk to Phil on a cell phone through a ground floor window because no one was allowed into his assisted living facility. 

A week ago, the facility had finally opened up for visitors with safety precautions. Melinda graciously scheduled us with the front desk during their normal slot (because the number of visitors at a time was restricted).  She and her husband would just sit in the parking lot while we visited with Phil (they also drive over an hour to get there) and then Phil’s son would walk him to his room. 

So masked, temperatures checked, and sitting more than six feet apart in a conference room, we got to see Phil in person for the first time in more than a year.  He decided he didn’t care about social distancing at age 95 (and with his vaccination done) so, as we left, he grabbed my hand and kissed it.

Yesterday, she called to tell me Phil had died in his sleep overnight.

Busy apathy versus slothful sympathy

Our society’s mantra has become “Busy, busy, busy!”  I want to know when that became a good thing, a desirable thing.  Do we experience calm in our busyness?  Do we actually enjoy it?  Does it make for a fun day?  It doesn’t seem like it.  Is it somehow beneficial for others?

Other words for busyness include industry, effort, attention, and concentration.  We would use the word sloth for the opposite of busy, which is described as a reluctance to make an effort.  Laziness.  Idleness.  Lethargy.  Apathy.

When I talked to Melinda yesterday, I figured she was busy and would want to get off the phone as soon as possible.  Then I realized she was sitting in Phil’s now empty apartment, empty of him at least, amidst all the stuff she had to sort through, and just needed to talk.

Do you know how much effort it actually takes to stop doing and just listen?  To not be moving but be still.  To hear every word said to me but not be thinking about my response, wondering, “What does she need to hear?”

Melinda didn’t need to hear anything – she needed to express her grief to someone who would listen, even once she realized she was “just rambling” and saying each thought and feeling that was swirling through her sad head and heart.   She talked about the bags of M&Ms he had left and the Kleenex box they had brought down that she could just take back.  She talked about my grandma and how at family reunions, she was the only one Melinda was comfortable talking to.

So instead of getting off the phone to continue my busy day, I sat on my couch and just listened.

According to thesaurus.com, apathy is an antonym of busyness.  Apathy means a lack of feeling.  But which is really more apathetic in relation to others?  My busy, busy, busy seems more apathetic because it’s all about me.  I don’t give people my attention and concentration when I’m stuck in busyness. 

If sloth means I am the only person someone else is comfortable around, I want to be slothful.  If being slothful is listening to someone talk about M&Ms and Kleenex boxes, then that’s how I want to be.   

The opposite of busyness isn’t sloth or apathy.

The opposite of busyness is slowing down and showing love.

When you listen deeply, you help people suffer less.

Thich Nhat Hanh