I have often been regarded, and probably regarded myself, as a big picture thinker. A strategist, able to look beyond the initial horizon, sometimes accused of seeing a horizon that no one else is looking at!! All of this scenario planning, future gazing, strategising, data interpreting, means that sometimes, I forget it’s the little things that really matter.

I once received a great piece of feedback from one of my team. To start talking at the beginning of a thought, rather than starting a conversation in the middle, assuming that everyone else has made the connections or had similar thoughts.  (On reflection, this is brave and invaluable feedback – imagine how crazy some of my conversations must have been before I accepted and owned this behaviour?!)

And in the hurly burly of day-to-day corporate existence when time is short, information is plentiful and decisions and actions are taken at break-neck speed, it’s easy to explain such behaviour away.

But feedback like this pulls me up short and I  start to make time to think ahead about the purpose of the conversation and the outcome I’m looking for before any discussion happens, rather than at the point of communicating.

By being off sick and having time to reflect, I’ve realised I need to consider this feedback more broadly, beyond the singular  dimension of relaying a thought, idea or request, through speech or voice interaction.  For honest and real communication happens at the level of  how, not what.  Actions and behaviours (the how of communication) convey emotion, intention, values and beliefs far better than speech alone.

And time and circumstance gives me the opportunity to see and, experience, the how of communication in so many small and sometimes seemingly insignificant ways.

So I am more grateful and appreciative of;

The girlfriend, my first hospital visitor (apart from Craig), who comes bearing small arnica tablets which she proceeds to pop into my mouth (ignoring the nil by mouth  sign above my bed!) and for the time she spends creaming my face with moisturiser  when I look like a wreck and my halitosis is at its very worst.

For others who turn up during incredibly busy periods in their lives armed with gifts, magazines and flash cards to save my voice (these cause much hilarity in the hospital ward when I keep holding up the “need more gin” card).
For those who let me gatecrash their short, time-bound Christmas celebrations, when I’m straight out of hospital, with such grace and love and the others who come to the house that evening to hang out, cook and clean, watch bad movies and help me feel human again.

For those who arrive  bearing soup, foodstuffs and sustenance, for the many flowers I receive which brighten up every room, and for all the girlfriends who wash and style my hair during my initial weeks back home.

For the invitation  to join another family’s Christmas day celebrations and Christmas dinner . This truly tremendous and selfless Christmas gift  was gratefully taken up, greatly appreciated and thoroughly enjoyed.

For family, who come and stay and entertain Roscoe, clean the kitchen and generally pitch in with our revised family life – the house feels so empty and quiet now they’ve gone home.

For those who have Roscoe ensuring he never has to see me in hospital and to give me a break from his boundless enthusiasm for life,  who care for him as if he is their own, washing and ironing his clothes, feeding him and keeping him safe.

For the exclusive home-made sloe gin which nearly causes me to fall over after one small glass.

For the silk scarves and chocolates which soften my neck and fatten me up, and for the walking companions who stoically  ignore my slurry communications and keep me talking.

For those who just drop in – when did we learn not to do this? Friends who drop by on the off chance are such welcome distractions to daily life.

For Roscoe, who is now  opening and closing my car door, carrying my provisions, slowly starting to do more for himself at home and who frequently asks if I’m okay.

For all the support,  advice, encouragement and guidance that comes from many different conversations.

For the cards, some sensible, most downright rude and hilarious which adorn my bookcase shelves and cause me to smile.

For the tribe who keep up the Whatsapp chats which keep me on track each day.

And for my husband who demonstrates in so many ways how much he loves and cares for me, without saying a single word.

I continue to  learn that it’s the little things I see, experience and do which  create the biggest waves of appreciation and joy.  Sometimes, all it takes is a look, a touch, a card, a word, a smile,  a text, a call, an email.

Most of the time, it’s the time itself, making the time to think of someone other than yourself, which creates the greatest impact.

When this comes from a place of care and openness, a place within yourself for another, it truly is a gift of love.