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Being seen and heard might sound simple, but most of us spend a lifetime craving both. I learned that again this morning while sitting in a quiet lab chair, waiting for my turn to get blood drawn. The walls hummed with the sound of centrifuges, and the air carried that clean smell of antiseptic and nerves. My phlebotomist walked in with a smile that actually reached her eyes. Before she even picked up a needle, she had already put me at ease.
She told me she was what they call a “floater,” traveling from one lab to another, working wherever she’s needed. The word struck me, I smiled and said, “We have something in common.” She laughed, asked how so, and I said, “I’m a floating chaplain. I serve wherever I’m needed or wherever I notice someone might need me.” She paused, then nodded in that way people do when they understand something deeper than the words themselves.
Being seen and heard begins with humility
We talked about calling, about how serving others feels less like a job and more like a rhythm. She said It must be hard for me to always be the rock, to have the answers people need. I admitted she wasn’t wrong. “As a man, I’m supposed to fix everything; as a Chaplain, I’m expected to have answers. But there’s a secret I’ve learned along the way… most people aren’t looking for answers and solutions. They just want to be seen, and they desperately want to be heard.”
You become a listener instead of a fixer. You give their story room to breathe. Listening is what unlocks healing, because people can finally hear their own truth spoken out loud.
She nodded, really taking it in. I could tell this woman loved her work, not because of what she did, but because of how she did it, with joy and intention. The way she tied a tourniquet and made small talk was its own kind of ministry. It reminded me of every waitress who slides coffee to a stranger with a kind word, or every traveler who holds a door open just a second longer than necessary. Being seen and heard happens in those seconds.
Grace travels light when being seen and heard
I told her I leave little notes at diners and coffee counters, small one-liners of encouragement for the next traveler to find. Nothing fancy. Just napkin wisdom: a sentence that might reach the right person at the right moment. But I added, “When you can’t leave a note, say the words instead. Mean them.” She tilted her head, waiting. “Say what words?” she asked. I smiled and said, “I hope the rest of your day is as beautiful as you are.” She paused, grinned, and said, “Wow… I think I’ll use that.”
That’s the part that stayed with me. The idea that a simple phrase, spoken honestly, could ripple out past this sterile little room into a dozen labs across town. Maybe a weary patient will walk away lighter, or a nurse will feel noticed, or someone will remember that kindness still circulates like blood in the veins of the world. We don’t always need sermons or speeches. Sometimes the gospel fits on a Post-it. Sometimes grace just needs a messenger willing to float.
So here’s to all the floaters out there… the nurses, the clerks, the truck drivers, the teachers, the ones who move quietly through other people’s days and leave warmth behind. You’re not invisible. You’re the reason the world still works. And if no one’s told you yet today, I hope the rest of your day is as beautiful as you are.
✨ Roadside Reflection:
We spend our lives chasing big answers, but healing usually hides inside the small ones. To be seen and heard is not a luxury, it is the foundation of love.
When we take time to look up, listen fully, and let someone else breathe without interruption, we join the quiet work of grace. That is where hope begins, in the shared stillness between two people who finally realize they matter. It matters being seen and heard.
Read more Journal entries: Faith and Good Courage Journal
Learn more about empathy and kindness: Greater Good Science Center