LISTEN

At the end of chapter 5, God said a lot by using only 5 words. I made the statement that there was probably a lesson there, but being a girl that love to talk, I did not want to see it.  Then, before I went to bed, I picked up my Erma Bombeck's  book and this is part of the chapter that I read. She wrote it February 1977

"There were 30 whole beautiful  minutes before my plane took off, time for me to be alone with  my own thoughts, to open a book and let my mind wander. A voice next to me belonging to an elderly woman said, "I'll bet it's cold in Chicago."

Stone-faced, I answered,"It's likely." I haven't been to Chicago in nearly three years," she persisted. "My  son lives there." "My husband's body is on the plane. We've been married for fifty-three years. I don't drive, you know, and when he died a nun drove me from the hospital. We aren't even Catholic.  The funeral director let me come to the airport with him."

I don't think I ever- detested myself more than I did at that moment. Another human being was screaming to be heard and in desperation had turned to a cold stranger who was more interested in a novel that the real-life drama at her elbow. All she needed was a listener. No advice, wisdom, experience, money, assistance, expertise or even compassion, but just a minute or two to listen. It seemed rather incongruous that in a society  of super-sophisticated communication , we often suffer from a shortage of listeners.

She talked steadily until we boarded the plane, then found her seat in another section.  As I  hung up my coat, I heard her plaintive voice say to her seat companion, "I'll bet it's cold in Chicago."

I prayed, "please God, let her listen."

Why am I telling you this? To make me fell better. It won't help though."

Amazing to me that God  can use an ancient story about a dead wicked king and a chapter from my favorite humorist to show me something important.  God gave us two hears and one mouth.  I have heard that since I was little.  Don't  get me wrong, I still love to talk.  But maybe, just maybe, I need to listen, really listen more and talk less.

 I know that on our DR's in New York that often,  listening to our clients vent seem to mean more than the food we provided. This week, as we watched the flood water rise, our clients needed to talk about the flood of 2009  as the wondered," what is  going to happen  tonight?".  Last night, the gentlemen was shaken up after the fire and all I did was ask what happened and he needed to tell us the whole story. When we opened  the door of the Erv where we had retreated for light and warmth, his family and friends were standing there. We were delighted and we left him telling his friends what had happened and they listened and promise to be there for him.

Lord,  help me be a better listener.