Beyond Words: Finding Grace in Everyday Encounters

In January 2024, Detroit, Michigan was hit with bitter cold temperatures and blustery snow. Amidst the cold, dark days, I encountered the unexpected suffering of Justine (pseudonym), the administrative assistant in a doctor’s office that I frequent.

Justine is exceptional at her job—friendly, engaging, efficient, effective, proactive, and conscientious. During my routine visits to her office, Justine and I discuss the little “stuff” of everyday life—holidays, weekend plans, work, school, and—almost always—her sons.

Through our routine chats, I’ve gotten to learn more about Justine—she is a daughter to an ailing father, a wife, a student pursing her first degree—a dream that she deferred so that she could put her family first—and a loving mother.

Justine lights up when she talks about her boys. She graces our conversations with updates about how they’re doing in school, subjects they’re struggling with, their friendships, plans for vacations, and their extracurricular activities. Her fifteen-year-old is a gifted athlete at several sports, and recently started driver’s education.

From Small Talk to Grace

Crossing the slushy parking lot for my first visit in 2024, I was preoccupied with the miserable weather and the professional commitments I had for the new year-- two classes at Sacred Heart Major Seminary, a recent promotion at work, launching a new book, and starting a ministry accompanying Catholic leaders through spiritual conversations. While these were all good things, nonetheless, they were weighing on my heart.

Upon entering the office, I consciously put on a smile, greeting Justine with a friendly, “Good afternoon! The cold weather is finally here.”

Justine’s glowing smile and her predictable, “Cup of coffee?”, offering were greatly appreciated, given the elements outside. But little did I know that our routine small talk was about to take a poignant turn.  

When I asked Justine about the holidays and whether her boys had a nice Christmas, her expression instantly changed. She let out a big sigh. “Well, we’ve had a rough couple of weeks. My oldest was hospitalized—suicide stuff. He’s been in an in-patient program for the past week.”

Startled by this news, and sensing the depth of her pain, I responded, “Oh my goodness, Justine. I’m so sorry to hear this. This is your baseball player, right? Is he okay?”

Words Are (Not) Enough

In this moment, my words, questions, expression of sympathy, and empathic tone felt inadequate. I was shocked. Our mundane small talk had taken a profound turn. I could see her holding back her sadness, and the encounter brought a profound sadness to my heart.

My interior monologue went immediately to all the joyful little conversations that we had shared over the previous year. Justine’s son is a star pitcher. He is starting driver’s training. He has lots of friends and teammates. He has a crush on a girl. “No!” I thought. “How could a beloved child of God even think of taking his own life? How, after all these conversations, do I not even remember his name?”  

“Yes. That’s the one. We’ve been working with a couple of different doctors and therapists over the past year,” Justine answered.

With sincere interest, I inquired, “Is he physically, okay? Have you been able to visit him? —I’m so sorry, Justine, we talk about your son all the time, what is his first name again?” More questions. More inadequate words.

“Matthew,” Justine replied with a smile. “His name is Matthew and, yes, he is physically fine. He’s at an in-patient mental health facility for adolescents. My husband and I have been able to visit him twice and we can talk to him on a communal phone for a few minutes each day. He’s been undergoing intense therapy and small group discussions. He’s doing better. They’re going to discharge him today because the doctor said that he’s starting to form relationships with the other boys, and they want him to get back to his routine.”

As we spoke, the inadequacy of my words and questions still loomed in my heart. Conversation and dialogue are my vocation. I make a living with words, and I teach about various types of grace-filled conversations. And, yet, in this moment, words alone didn’t seem to be enough—not for Matthew and not enough for Justine and her family.

I wanted to do something—some deed or charitable action. I wanted to cook for their family, shovel their driveway while they were visiting Matthew, cancel my appointment so that Justine could go home and prepare for her son’s homecoming, give her a hug—any action seemed better than mere words. But, given the context, none of these deeds were necessarily appropriate or possible.

Instead, I opened my heart to the Spirit, to practice what I teach, and I sought the Word amidst the words in our conversation. As modern Christians we never know how words of prayer, blessing, or spiritual things will be received. But we are called to act.

As the doctor called my name, I said, “Justine, I can only begin to imagine what you, your husband, and Matthew are going through. My wife and I will pray for Matthew’s healing, and that God graces you and your husband with the strength to get through this together. Give Matthew a great big hug tonight.”

Justine smiled, “Thank you so much, Chris. We really appreciate your prayers.” She gathered herself for a split second, “And, I’m not going to let him go tonight. He’s going to be so sick of me!” We exchanged one last faithful smile and agreed to see one another soon.

Grace-Filled Conversations

            On that frigid day, God gave me a grace-filled moment in conversation. We’ve all experienced conversations about difficult news—job loss, injury, medical diagnosis, or death. We’ve all asked ourselves, “What do I say now? How do I show compassion and love for someone I barely know? How do I respond to another’s suffering in whom I see the face of Christ?”

In these moments, may you find consolation in knowing that words, prayers, listening, and simply being present for another can be enough. Luke 24:17 vividly reminds us, the Holy Spirit is always present as we journey together. “What is this conversation which you are holding with each other as you walk?,” Jesus asked his disciples on their walk to Emmaus.

Jesus’ question reveals a beautiful truth about everyday encounters, especially the painful ones—God is present. God is listening. And God wants us to hold our conversations—even the routine ones—with love and compassion, opening doors to deeper friendship, healing, and Him strengthening His life in ours. And that is grace beyond words.