listening

I've often read or heard the phrase that has become a sort of concept: "You weren't really listening." How much do we really listen? I mean, we hear, most certainly - unless we have an inane ability to block out input - but a lot of the time, we miss stuff right below our ears, and it all goes right past our noses.

I'm mildly sardonic because it is ironic.

And I wonder whether I really hear that phrase when I read it.

The stuff we hear only registers in our conscious when we, to some extent, listen for it. Until then, it just goes in one ear and out the other - no matter how many times or how obviously it is presented to us.

Humanity and denial are largely synonymous.

Here is the concrete example that cemented all this for me tonight.

For over twenty years, I've had over 99% of my evening meals with my family. And while my brothers boisterously regaled themselves with funny stories and movie re-enactions, and my little sister and I raised random topics here and there, my mom would tell us to listen to what my dad had to say, because this was his chance to really talk with all of us since most of the day he's at work.

So we'd stop and listen - but maybe I didn't really. My mind would go, "Oh, he's starting on another story again." From work, from news on the radio, from his childhood. And I'd hear. And enjoy it. But not really realize. My mind has done this I don't know how many times - "He's telling a story again...there he goes again with another story."

And I didn't realize until tonight that my dad likes to tell stories. I heard his words, but I don't think I heard him. All these years. I can't believe it. Now I'm just about to leave home, and I finally realize that one thing that makes my dad really happy is telling us stories - and they're fun stories.

Tonight he cooked the meal, too. It was a really special meal. He cooked the meal, and told us stories...he likes to hear us laugh.

If only I'd listened to him - realized how much it meant to him. My dad is the one who doesn't demand much of people. He doesn't have a whole lot of personal likes in terms of material comforts - at least, I think he does, but he doesn't indulge. He will spend money on us before he spends it on himself.

And here I finally discovered another precious thing that really makes him happy. If I'd realized it sooner, then I could have spent a lot of dinner-times really participating in the stories, and listening, and saying stuff that would make him happy.

It is funny we look for clues to people's personalities and miss the obvious. Too much is hidden in plain sight. Maybe we need to revise our concepts of "plain." Plain sounds boringly harmless, but it is really quite dangerous. Beware lumping most of life into the category of mundanity.

So I suppose this is a little tribute to my dad.

But also a reminder to myself - do I really listen to God? Or do I only hear? I think listening to a person is the way to their heart, and thus it is with God. Mary listened.

I guess the next time I hear, "You're not listening to me!" in some movie or book or even in real life, I'll actually start to listen more, instead of just commenting to myself how often I hear and phrase and wondering why.

Jesus said, "He who has ears, let him hear." I think ears - and all the other senses with which we can listen - are gifts. Valuable gifts from God. Let us not squander them on ignorance or dishonesty with self.