DEEP LISTENING

 

    As someone who used to be rather chatty and, in fact, had wracked up 22 demerits in High School (25=suspension) for talking in class, I have found that as I age, I am getting quieter and quieter. I am not entirely sure why that is so, although I do have a few ideas. And I want to examine Benedictine Spirituality and how they speak of deep listening.

 

   Being American, I have had to struggle with the need to "be right" all the time, to interrupt someone so I can "say my piece," and to think ahead to what I WANT TO SAY before the speaker before me is even finished. What happened to listening? Whatever happened to the Native wisdom of being quiet until others are done speaking and then continuing that silence for some time?

 

  I think my ears are crying out for silence, for quiet. It may be one reason I no longer watch TV, listen to audio tapes, or watch movies. I do not want someone else's ideas about a character or a narrative to be in my mind. I want to use my own ideas, attach them to a narrative, and images, and inhabit fully another's world without listening to other voices. 

   The first rule in the Rule of St. Benedict is "Listen." Just that. Listen. What kind of a world would we live in if we all followed this one thing? I think this applies not just to our interactions with people, but with how we stand on our ground within and without.

   If I say, "Listen," to my inner self, what do I hear?

   Oh, God, it's Christmas. What shall I get Rick, Char, Ben, and Amy?

 

   How much can I afford to spend?

   When should I start making my Christmas Cookies to give to our neighbors and also to our UCC Church Carol Sing?

   Do I have enough butter? Should I get salted or unsalted? Do I have enough brown and white sugar?

   Should I bake using my Gluten-free flour or not? How about those almond flour biscotti I just made, dipped in chocolate with toasted almonds on top? Those would make good presents for neighbors.

   God.  When I get to my "change of address" as someone so fondly put our dying and going on to the next life,

 God is going to pat my hand and say, "Annie girl, maybe you spent too much time thinking about food, ordering groceries, cooking and baking, hmmmm?"

   But if I can get beyond the damn clutter of my holiday mind, what else do I hear?

   53 years ago my dear mom died of lung cancer at the age of 55. I have had 25 more years of precious life than she had.

   The bluebirds are drinking from my heated water bath. How fine is that? The blush-orange color of their breasts reminds me of the robin's breast in England, so cheery. God surely put bright birds in our lives to cheer us in the bleak mid-winter.

 

   God is calling me to be something more than I am right now. What? How am I even going to find out? I expect prayer and reading Scripture closely will tell me this or at least point me in the right direction. In my Scripture reflections today from Give Us This Day, the writer imagined God standing behind us, nudging us onto the right path. I am waiting for that nudge, God!

   How lucky I am to have had 58 Christmases with my honey over the years. In the beginning, this holiday was hard for my honey having had an alcoholic father who tended to go on benders at Christmas. Pulling your Dad out of a bar does not make for the holiday spirit, and this cast a shadow over our early years until we worked it through. Thank God.

   If I listen carefully, I can remember holidays in our old 1756 Colonial House (cold!), where we put rubber galoshes in front of the fireplace instead of stockings. Fine with me, as they held more loot, including the traditional orange and chocolate at the bottom. How lucky I was to have loving parents who supported me and my brothers, sent us to college, and were so proud of us. Lucky indeed.

   And when I listen again, I hear God telling me: "I am enough for you. Things, presents, glitzy rings for your birthday, new clothes from StitchFix, all of that does not matter. I am all that matters. Let me fill all the nooks and crannies in your soul, then you will be fed, Annie. Trust me. Trust me. 

    I am enough. 

    And you are enough.