The Courage to be a Witness

Yesterday I read a truly inspiring blog. This is a part of that blog. I didn't write it but to me, it is worth sharing. Read the entire blog here:


Enjoy.

In 2004 a film was released called Shall We Dance?

“We need a witness to our lives.”

“There’s a billion people on the planet…I mean, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you’re promising to care about everything—the good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things—all of it, all the time, every day. You’re saying, ‘Your life will not go unnoticed, because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed, because I will be your witness’.”

I have remembered that little scene from the moment I saw it to this sliver of time that I call Right Now. And I have seen that it takes courage to give a particular level and a special kind of meaning to another person’s life by being there through all of it. It takes courage and unbelievable commitment, because being there for all of it means just that: being there for all of it. It means missing nothing. Not even (and perhaps especially) the things you wish you could miss. It means holding the space for everything that is occurring—including that which is reoccurring.

Life is a repetition. It is the same thing over and over again, in different settings and different ways. Sometimes in the same settings in exactly the same way. And so, in order to be a witness to someone’s life, one has to have endless patience for repetition. Indeed, one has to have endless patience for everything. Because seeing another person every single day of your life means seeing The All of Everything. There is nowhere to hide, nowhere to run.

Ultimately, nothing is secret, nothing can be held back, nothing can be glossed over without finally being found out. Every fear, every trepidation, every insecurity is revealed. Every scar, every past mistake, every childhood injury is uncovered.

And perhaps most difficult of all, very little, after a while, can be said for the first time. Nearly every conversation is in some way a repeat of something that has been said or observed or remembered before. And the longer the marriage, the more this is surely true. And so we must have endless patience for the things Already Said; for the story Already Shared; for the joke A-Hundred-Times-Told; for the regret A-Thousand-Times-Visited.

Yet probably the most challenging aspect of marriage is that it asks us to witness the going downhill of our Beloved. Not just the aging process specifically, but also the larger process by which life’s very activities reduce themselves as time goes by.

The kids grow up and leave the house. Interests change. Retirements occur. A couple is right back where it started when it all began—except now there is nowhere to go. The future is not filled with bright anticipation, the days bring few surprises, and there is precious little to “shoot for.” And if waning health sends one of the partners downhill, fear and dread can set in as the healthier of the pair awaits the inevitable.

Yet when the inevitable comes, there is a reward—there is. And it is a rich reward for both. For one can look into the eyes of the other and know that a life has been seen. It was not all imagined. It was witnessed. Someone was watching and someone was affected. And someone saw how the other was affected. Each saw the other’s tears. Each heard the other ’s laughter. Both joined in both.

No really important experience was held in solitude.

We need a witness to our lives.

But it takes great courage to be a Witness.

So turn to your Witness today and say, “I will treasure you always for what you are giving me. Because you are, I am.

And while you’re about it, say the same thing tonight to God.

Love, Neale.