Being Willing to Mend
· Being
As we prepare to gather, what would it mean to bring a little more honesty, care, and willingness to the table?
What We Notice When We Slow Down
This weekend, I spent some time forest bathing in Wisconsin, which sounds like something that requires considerably more preparation, and fewer clothes, than it actually does. What I mean is that I went on a hike with friends and concentrated on taking it all in, taking deep breaths, pausing along the way, and sitting quietly to be still and listen. There is a name for that kind of attention: shinrin-yoku, the Japanese practice of taking in the forest through your senses. For someone who can turn almost any available hour into an opportunity to get something done, spending time somewhere without needing to accomplish anything is a practice worth practicing.
There is science behind making room for that kind of quiet. In field experiments involving 280 participants across 24 forests in Japan, researchers found that spending time in forest environments was associated with lower cortisol levels, pulse rates, and blood pressure compared with city environments. Those were short-term findings in young adults, so they don’t tell us everything about lasting health benefits, but they offer evidence that our surroundings can help our bodies settle. Paying attention to the world beyond our calendars has value we can actually measure.
What interests me is what we might notice once we stop filling every available space. Sometimes it is something beautiful that we would have walked right past. Sometimes it is how tired we are, or how much we have been carrying. And sometimes, when there is enough quiet to hear ourselves, we recognize a conversation we have been avoiding.
Everything We Bring to the Table
With Thanksgiving approaching, I have been thinking about the people who will gather around our tables and everything that arrives with them. We bring favorite recipes, familiar stories, and opinions someone probably should have left in the car. We also bring our histories with one another, including the moments we remember differently and the hurts we have learned to step around. A full table can hold a great deal of love while still holding something unresolved.
I was sitting with a friend who is in the AA program, and they shared with me the concept of making amends. As we get closer to a season of gathering and giving thanks, I keep thinking about what that asks of us. We remember someone’s favorite dish, but have we acknowledged the conversation that didn’t end well or the promise we never followed through on? In AA, Step Eight asks people to recognize whom they have harmed and become willing to make things right, while Step Nine asks them to act: “Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.” These steps belong to a much deeper process of recovery, but what my friend shared left me with a question I think many of us can sit with: Who in my life deserves more than my good intentions?
What challenges me about making amends is that it asks something beyond feeling bad or finding the right words. We have to consider what our behavior cost another person and what taking responsibility would require. An apology can begin that work, but our choices afterward give it credibility. If I am sorry I haven’t listened, the repair involves listening; if I have repeatedly broken a promise, the repair involves becoming someone whose promises can be trusted.
I know how tempting it is to explain ourselves before we have fully acknowledged someone else. We want them to understand how busy we were, what we meant, or what was happening in our own lives. Those things may be true, but they can also take up all the room in a conversation that was supposed to be about the person we hurt. There is courage in being able to say, “I did this, I understand that it hurt you, and I want to take responsibility,” without immediately asking to be understood in return.
Making Things Right Requires Care
The qualification in Step Nine matters just as much as the invitation to act. In his reflection on the practice, Richard Rohr emphasizes the discernment needed to make amends without creating further injury. Our desire to feel relieved does not automatically make a disclosure helpful to someone else. Timing, boundaries, and the other person’s well-being belong in the decision.
That means Thanksgiving dinner does not have to become an unannounced family reckoning between the stuffing and the pie. A private conversation beforehand might be more considerate, or we may need to ask whether someone is willing to talk at all. They may need time, and they may not respond as we hope. Taking responsibility includes respecting that response and doing the work of changing without making forgiveness our condition for continuing.
All of this has me asking a question that feels especially relevant in a season of gratitude: If I am thankful for someone, what would help them experience that gratitude in the way I treat them? Perhaps it is a specific thank-you for something I have taken for granted. Perhaps it is following through, making time, or acknowledging something I wish I had handled differently. Appreciation becomes more meaningful when the person receiving it can recognize it in our behavior.
Making Room for Each Other
Gathering with people around Being HumanKind has given me another reason to think about this. I’m grateful to Matthew Hoffman and everyone who joined us for the recent book signing at You Are Beautiful in Chicago. Having people make time to come together around these ideas means a great deal to me. The book gives us a place to begin, and what matters to me is how those ideas travel into our relationships and ordinary days.
This Tuesday, November 10, I’ll join artist Tanner Woodford at Subourbon in Wheaton for another evening of Being HumanKind, conversation, and book signing. It is an amazing venue to give yourself a little room to be present, connect, and consider how we want to move through the world. Bring a friend or come on your own; I would love to see you there. You can find the details and reserve your spot here.
That desire for connection is also at the heart of At the Table, the gatherings Brian MacDonald and I host to bring people together for thoughtful conversation and shared experience. We make room for curiosity, different perspectives, and the opportunity to get beyond the usual introductions. A shared meal gives us time to ask questions we might otherwise skip and hear from people whose experiences differ from our own. When we give each other that attention, we create an opportunity for understanding to grow.
You can create your own version with a few neighbors over dinner, coworkers sharing lunch, or friends inviting someone who doesn’t know everyone yet. Yours doesn’t need a name, a perfect menu, or an organized event. It can begin with an invitation you have been meaning to extend or an extra place set for someone spending the holiday alone. Whatever form it takes, the care is in helping people feel welcome enough to participate and comfortable enough to be themselves.
Gratitude Beyond Our Own Gathering
As we celebrate over food, I also want to keep in view the neighbors for whom having enough to eat is uncertain. Rule29 and O’Neil Printing’s project, American Potluck, brings together 50 illustrated dishes, one from every state, in a print celebrating the different traditions we bring to a shared table. One hundred percent of proceeds are donated to No Kid Hungry to support its work connecting children with meals. It gives us a way to celebrate what brings us together while helping others meet a basic human need.
I love the idea that a potluck depends on people bringing something different. Someone brings a recipe that has been passed down for generations, someone brings something they are trying for the first time, and someone arrives with a grocery-store pie because getting there was enough of an accomplishment. Together, they make a meal that no one person had to provide alone. There is generosity in contributing what we can and grace in welcoming what someone else has to offer.
We cannot assume everyone feels included just because the season is full of gatherings, or that every household has what it needs because our own table is full. Gratitude can help us pay closer attention to both. It can move us to extend an invitation, contribute to a food pantry, support a project like American Potluck, or quietly ask someone what would be helpful. Those choices allow our thankfulness to reach another person.
Go Be
This week, give yourself a little quiet before the season gets louder, then let what you notice guide one meaningful action.
- Be still. Spend some time outside without turning it into another task. Notice what you can hear, see, and feel, and give your attention a chance to settle.
- Be honest. Think of a relationship where something remains unresolved. Ask yourself, “What is mine to take responsibility for, and what have I been explaining away?”
- Be considerate. Before reaching out, consider whether contact would be welcome and helpful. Ask permission for a conversation, respect boundaries, and leave room for the other person’s response.
- Be accountable. Choose one behavior you can change and begin following through. Let your actions support the words you want someone to believe.
- Be welcoming. Create your own version of At the Table. Invite a few people to share a meal, make introductions, and ask a question that opens a thoughtful conversation.
- Be generous. Thank someone specifically, help put a meal on another table, or support American Potluck. Give your gratitude somewhere to go.
Being HumanKind asks us to keep learning how to care for one another, including when that care requires humility and change. We may not know how a conversation will go or whether a relationship will become what we hope. But we can become willing to acknowledge our part, listen without defending ourselves, and follow through with care. As we gather this season, I hope the people I’m thankful for can feel that willingness in how I love them.