The Gift of Understanding

The other day my son said to me in passing and with all seriousness, "Dad, now I understand what you do and how hard it is."


Perhaps obviously, this stopped me in my tracks. "What do you mean?" I asked.


"Well, I realized that, basically, you have to write an essay every single week." He went on to explain that his teacher had assigned him an essay that day, and since this was the second one in as many weeks, he had groaned inwardly. He said, "I thought, 'I don't want to write another essay, we just did one last week.' And then I realized, this is what Dad has to do all the time. Now I understand."


That was it: "Now I understand." And it's hard to explain, but as we talked, it was like I could feel a belt in my chest that had been two notches too tight for too long suddenly loosen; as if those two simple words, "I understand," had spoken balm over a place in my heart I didn't even realize was itching until they touched it.

And I think I understand a bit better, now, too. I understand why the prayer of St. Francis has that bit in it about being a channel of God's peace by seeking not so much to be understood, but to understand. Because if this moment of empathy with my son is any indication, then to really understand another person, and to let them know they are really understood, this is, or can be, a profound invitation to peace.