Caring is inherent and relational in nursing, according to Boykin and Schoenhofer.

Caring isn’t a one-and-done action. It’s a way of being. If you’ve ever stood at a patient’s bedside and sensed a current that goes beyond charts and checklists, you’ve felt something the Boykin and Schoenhofer model calls the essence of nursing: care as an inherent, relational force that nurtures human connections.

Caring as a way of being

Here’s the thing about the Boykin and Schoenhofer perspective: care isn’t something you do to someone; it’s something you live with someone. It’s not a transaction, not a service tucked into a shift, not a line item in a care plan. In their view, caring is fundamental to what it means to be human. It begins inside the caregiver and flows into the relationship with the person who is receiving care. This model treats care as an ongoing duet, where both people contribute to the healing journey. It’s less about technique and more about presence, empathy, and mutual recognition.

The contrast with the common-sense reactions to care is telling. If you say care is a transaction limited to one person, you miss the relational heartbeat. If you say care rests only on the caregiver’s skills, you ignore the living bond that forms when two people meet in a moment of vulnerability. If you say care is about physical health alone, you overlook the emotional currents, stories, and meanings that wrap around healing. The Boykin and Schoenhofer view pushes back on those ideas. It invites us to see care as something larger, something shared, something that grows in the space between caregiver and cared-for.

Caring is inherent and nurtures human connections

Let me explain with a simple image. Imagine care as soil in a garden. The plant doesn’t grow in isolation; it draws strength from the soil, the air, the sun, and the nearby plants. In nursing, caring is the soil that nourishes every moment of observation, every moment of listening, every exchange of a smile or a sigh. It’s not borrowed or earned; it’s a quality that resides in the relationship itself. When care is inherent, it shows up even in small acts—a steady gaze, a quiet assurance, a willingness to stay a little longer when words fail.

This relational flavor matters because healing is rarely a solo enterprise. People aren’t just bodies with needs; they’re stories unfolding in real time. When a nurse names a person’s humanity after a long day—staying for a few extra minutes, asking about what matters beyond the illness, honoring cultural values—the care becomes more than a service. It becomes a shared experience. In that sense, care is inherently mutual. Both sides influence what happens next, and that collaboration deepens trust, eases fear, and opens doors to more expressive, more effective care.

Why this matters in real life

You might wonder, “So what? How does this play out in day-to-day care?” The answer is simple, yet powerful: when care is seen as a mutual relationship, it changes what happens at the bedside. The patient feels seen; the nurse feels connected to something larger than the task at hand; healing becomes a collaborative journey rather than a solo mission.

Here are a few practical threads that the model weaves into everyday nursing life:

• Presence over performance: Being fully there matters more than performing every skill flawlessly. The quiet, attentive presence can calm anxiety and create a space where patients feel safe to share fears, hopes, and even frustrations.

• Listening as a doorway: Active listening isn’t just about hearing words; it’s about noticing body language, tone, and unspoken concerns. When caregivers listen, they discover values, beliefs, and goals that shape care in meaningful ways.

• Shared meaning: Care is co-created. The patient’s experiences and the caregiver’s expertise meet to produce understandings that neither could reach alone. That shared meaning becomes a compass for decisions and priorities.

• Relational accountability: Nurses aren’t isolated heroes. They’re partners within a network of relationships that includes families, colleagues, and the wider health system. Caring grows when all these bonds are respected and tended.

• Soul care for the caregiver: If care is mutual, then caregivers need care too. Boundaries, reflection, and self-care are not luxuries; they’re practical foundations that keep the relational work sustainable.

A gentle digression: stories as mirrors

Think of a moment when a nurse sat with a patient who was overwhelmed by a diagnosis. The nurse didn’t rush to “fix” things. Instead, they asked gentle questions, shared a small anecdote, and offered a tissue without making a big deal of the moment. In that exchange, something was shared—the patient’s fear, the nurse’s steadiness, a tiny thread of trust. Later, the patient said how that hour felt different from other visits: not just about medicine, but about being treated as a person who matters. That’s the heart of the Boykin and Schoenhofer view in action: care as a living, breathing relationship that makes healing feel possible.

How to bring this stance into daily work

If you’re new to this way of thinking, you might wonder how to translate it into actions without losing focus on the science of care. Here are some approachable ways to embody care as a mutual, relational process:

• Start with curiosity: Ask open questions that invite stories. “What matters most to you today?” can guide decisions in a way that a checklist alone can’t.

• Be comfortable with silence: Not every moment needs a word, and sometimes the most powerful thing is simply being present.

• Validate experiences: Acknowledge a patient’s feelings—fear, relief, frustration—without immediately rushing to solve them. Validation is a bridge, not a verdict.

• Foster shared understanding: When plans are discussed, invite the patient (and family when appropriate) to contribute. Co-creating goals aligns care with what matters most to the person.

• Reflect and renew: The relational work is demanding. Take time to reflect on your own responses, learn from missteps, and recharge so you can stay genuinely present.

Connection by design

The Boykin and Schoenhofer model isn’t about softening professional rigor. It’s about recognizing that the best healing happens when head and heart work together. It’s about turning care into an ongoing conversation that doesn’t end when the patient leaves the room. It’s about seeing the patient as a whole person, not just a set of symptoms to be managed.

Sometimes a single moment crystallizes this idea. A nurse sits at the bedside, listening as a patient recalls a family story from long ago. The room softens. The clock ticks a little slower. In that moment, care becomes a shared space where the person’s history, fears, and hopes are part of the plan. Healing here isn’t only about eliminating pain; it’s about restoring dignity, purpose, and a sense of belonging.

Key takeaways for today

• Caring, in the Boykin and Schoenhofer sense, is a way of being that lives in the relationship between caregiver and cared-for.

• It is inherent, not taught as a single technique, and it grows through mutual interactions that nurture human connections.

• This perspective invites presence, listening, shared meaning, and relational accountability as everyday practices.

• For caregivers, sustaining the relationship means practicing self-care, reflection, and boundaries that keep the bond healthy over time.

• In practice, care becomes a collaborative journey where healing is co-created, not handed down from one expert to another.

Closing reflections

If you’re carrying curiosity about what makes care feel authentic, you’re already stepping into the spirit of Boykin and Schoenhofer. Caring is more than the sum of skills; it’s a living bond that invites both sides to participate in healing. It’s not a grand gesture up front but a sequence of small, meaningful choices made together—presence, listening, acknowledgement, and mutual respect. And honestly, that’s the kind of care that quietly changes lives. It’s the quiet strength of nursing at its best: a relational art that keeps growing—one conversation, one shared moment, one human connection at a time.