This Relationship

He remembered that I went on retreat and asked about it.

This seems some what inane, I am sure, but when you are typically the person who is supposed to remember what is going on in his life (mainly because it is your job, mostly because you do care), when he remembers something about your life, it's like the odd smile from a stranger that brightens the day.

This relationship we have with clients is an interesting one. They walk in and out of our lives, often without us ever knowing how their story ends. And as I sit across from them, drinking my tea, ever working the rapport, for those hours, I forget they will walk out my door. They lay out their lives, sometimes neatly, sometimes in a heap as if it were dirty laundry. They share their hopes, their dreams, their anxiety, and fears. I forget that I have not been a part of their lives until this moment. Rather I wade in, allowing their scenarios to wrap around me, enveloping me (at least I always hope), until we get to a point where they are comfortable and I am understanding, compassionate, separating myself from any presupposed judgments and selfishness. It is not my place. And one might think it would be easy to get lost in all this, but it is not. Perhaps I do leave a part of me with them, but they to leave part of themselves with me.

This relationship is odd. I forget that I will not hear about the Little League Championship, nor the sister's thrown-together-wedding in Spain, nor if he got that job at the zoo. For a few moments, I forget that they are not old friends. I forget that I am just providing a professional service.

But this is alright because I am providing a professional service. And some will check in, some will not. Some will come back. Some will refer others. Some will be forever gone.

So, when he asked me about my retreat, it was a sort of startling moment. He remembered! And I thought, how odd, this relationship of ours...