by Kate Layzer
ATTENTION
“Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, ‘Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.’ But the Lord answered her, ‘Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.’” (Luke 10)
It was hard not to notice the young mom two tables away. Hard because her two little boys, both under the ages of 5, were running wild—squealing, jumping up and down on the seats, racing around the aisles of the restaurant in the path of diners carrying trays. I looked over, concerned, to see her bent over her phone, intent on the glowing screen. Her daughter stood behind her, clinging. I watched for a while to see what she would do, but she didn’t look up. I remembered my own years as a young mom—especially my years raising an active little boy—and felt her weariness. But I couldn’t help sending her an urgent thought message: “Honey, put that thing away. Your kids need your attention.”
Not just for safety. They need your attention.
They need your gaze, your all-attentive love. They need the full warmth of your care and concern—not partial and distracted. They need to feel that they matter to you more than anything in the world.
To thrive, to become fully human, we need to feel that we matter. We tell each other we matter each time we offer our full, undivided attention: our gaze, our listening, our empathic response, our real presence.
I say that as someone who has problems with attention, who is easily scattered and sidetracked. But I also say it as someone who has trouble believing that my attention could possibly be worth anything to anyone else. Who cares what I think or whether I’m present or not? Why would that matter to anyone?
It matters.
We’ve all been warned not to go around acting as if we’re God’s gift to the world. But we ARE God’s gift to the world. Our real presence and attention—empty-handed, listening, without judgment, shame, blame, or even advice—is God’s gift to whoever has been sent to you today. We are God’s gift to each other. We matter.
In Centering Prayer, we practice receiving God’s full and absolute attention, poured out on us as if we were the only people on earth. “The love God has for me is not an infinitesimal fraction of his love for the world,” writes Martin Smith. “I do not get a tiny bit of his attention and care. Because the whole is present in each part, because I am the world in miniature, God is wholly present to me, wholly available. I receive myself the full force of his love for creation, and undivided attention and presence.” (A Season for the Spirit)
And then, as if that weren’t enough, we turn and share that undivided love and attention with each other. Bread broken and shared. Real Presence.
Who will you offer that gift to today?