A bit like Dumbo

The fruit of that righteousness will be peace;

    its effect will be quietness and confidence forever. --Isaiah 32:17

It happened again today.

I was having "one of those days." A friend who has listened to me whine more than I care to admit asked a question and prepared to listen for as long as it might take. 

And in that space of safety and mutual respect, my junque du jour began to unravel like a cheap sweater when you pull that loose thread on the bottom.

Before I knew what was happening, I found myself sitting spiritually naked in a deep pile of colorful unravelings. And I began to breathe normally again.

Few words were said by my friend. I didn't need words or platitudes. I needed someone just to listen, without call or comment. 

I needed presence. And I was blessed to find it.

There's that old saying that goes something like, "The reason we have two ears and only one mouth is so that we can listen twice as much as we talk." While I certainly know a number of people who don't seem to understand this (and I bet you do, too), it seems to be worth aspiring to.

Big old elephant ears. One on each side of our head, so whichever shoulder a friend leans up against, there is a listening space-- right there.

It's a skill, you know, that listening thing. So often, folks find themselves caught on a word or phrase in someone's conversation-- and we stop listening, because that word has triggered something in us that we are sure is just so important it has to be said, as soon as the other person stops for breath (or sooner).

News flash: It's not that important.

Sometimes, there is absolutely nothing that must be said. Sometimes-- no matter whom we are in conversation with-- we just need to keep silent. 

The greatest gift any of us can give to another is the gift of self. Our full, undivided attention and focus. It can be hard. Our ego wants nothing more than to communicate to the other that we know just how they feel (even though we do not and cannot). 

I believe learning when to shush is a big part of what "dying to Christ" or "dying to self" is all about. 

We take a deep breath. We try to slip into their moccasins and feel what they feel, try to fathom their hurt (even as it may seem trivial to us). What a gift-- to a friend or to a stranger.

It works with people; it also works well with the Divine. Being quiet; listening for God's desires for and in our lives; setting aside the "Wish List" and "to-do" prayers and allowing the Lord to carry the conversation now and then. 

My friend was gracious in their gift of presence. Thank you so much. May I learn such graciousness, as well. Amen.