How concise, how tidy, how efficient. A friend piqued my interest by posting a concept umbrella for her year and petitioning us to respond in turn. Just one word to dictate the direction we’re looking toward this year, a tight little tag-line summation of all we hope to accomplish. Love it. Except, as I asked my friends for theirs, I was left hanging! What does she mean by that? What angle is she coming from? What does she really hope to achieve, accomplish, become, discard, or change? What’s behind her word? Purpose. Family. Service. Committed. Serenity. Hope. Peace. Change. Positivity. Intentional. Acceptance. Wow! What teasers! I can’t wait to ask them in person what they’re talking about. Like with Todd. He didn’t even take a breath before he responded immediately with Progress. Of course! I already know all about his ambitions to transform our farm and house into a property he can feel proud of; he’s been working on it tirelessly for an entire year and hasn’t lost momentum. As soon as he said it, I knew it had already been driving him for some time. But some of the others gave me just a peek, intriguing me, leaving me hanging. Was it just something off the cuff, had they been mulling this over for awhile, are there other words too, is this just for fun or is this serious? Did they just pick a word out of a hat or is this meant transform their lives? And what will the end of the year look like with this kind of focus? A simple exercise, but full of possibilities and potential!
As I was going about my day, not on my knees, not in a meditation pose, not being super zoned in, I just asked Heavenly Father—and myself—simply what I needed to change or do or be more of right now. And quietly I knew. Not heard, but just recognized. Listen is my word.
I don’t know how Heavenly Father means for it to look exactly, but I was already humbled and knew the potential this little word could have in my life. I’m not horrible at this, in fact I’ve made huge changes over the years. I’m just not fantastic or great or even really good at it. But I want to get better. I didn’t feel chastened by the suggestion, but charged. Not reprimanded, more roused. Not embarrassed, just excited. I loved how personal my little word was, how it reminded me again how intimately He knows me. It fits me.
So then I started to write about it for you all—almost poetically. In a sing-song writer’s voice. Good grief. It felt so fake. So I scratched all that and, as you’ve become accustomed to, I’m giving it to you straight, not pretty or flowy or even eloquently, but personally and simply. Just some random thoughts, Nerf bullets I felt pinging me, not creating alarm, just a sort of heightened awareness.
Listen intently to the people I’m with. Not to be heard but to hear. This is an incredibly easy and obvious approach to solid conversation. But recommitting myself to keeping quiet, to squelching my tendency to interrupt, to paying attention to what my daughters and friends and husband and leaders and sons and sisters and strangers are telling me, to really tune into the other perspective, to put myself in their shoes, to hear where they’re coming from… that’s magic, that’s immediate insight, that’s powerful. Taking the pressure off me to come up with something appropriate or helpful or insightful. All I need to do is be present, really here, listening to what’s on their minds, what’s in their hearts, what’s important to them right now. They don’t care about my response, not really. At least not the words of my response. To people (because I’ve been the people), all that matters is that someone hears us. That’s validation, confirmation, security, intimacy, closeness. It’s rare. And craved.
But at the same time, listen to what those people aren’t telling us. I need to tune in to what they’re saying with their bodies and eyes and expressions and how I’m feeling as they talk. Hearts are breaking, people are lonely, souls are unsettled. I need to keep listen to what I’m sensing. Listen to their unspoken longing. And listen as I feel what I can do to help. At the same time I know we should make people be accountable for what they are saying, some buzzword like content communication. But as a regular person, I’ve been there. A lot of times we say what’s expected, what’s appropriate. Not always how we really feel. Listening involves watching for what else is going on.
A silly one but one I’m insisting on as I’m getting older… only surround myself with things I love. Listen to what matters to me. This is super hard because I like cheap, I buy things on a whim that I don't even really like or that aren't me, somehow things pass through the house, my hands that I'm not sure what to do with. I don’t want to worry about something so shallow when there’s so much going on in the world. I know. But, I’m learning to listen to myself by acknowledging my preferences and decluttering. I don’t know if anyone else feels this way, but I feel a little off, a little unsettled, when I’m wearing something I don’t love (ok, so this is a whole other issue and blog because this is every day) or when I keep waking up to a picture I've always hated. So maybe it’s a pair of earrings or home decoration or even a kitchen towel that I used to love but it's just not me anymore. I should be grateful I even have these things. I think I am. But I have had so many items cross my path over the years that I’m learning to be judicious with what I keep; there’s just too much and I lean a tad minimalist. If I don’t love it, I want it to go to someone who really will. If it doesn’t fit, if I’ve always felt frumpy in it—and here’s the hard part—even if I paid real money for it—I need to let it go. It is freeing to me and so validating to listen to what I really want to surround myself with. I feel heard, my opinions are valued. If I can’t listen to myself, why should I expect anyone else to respect or hear me?
Quit listening to satan. Or any other negative voices. Super easy and obvious who’s doing the talking; it’s definitely not God. Listen to the ones that encourage me to be better. When I’m feeling an inkling of inferiority or inadequacy or defeat or discouragement, I know for a fact who’s influencing me. I’ve got no time for that. And so yes, I admit I’m feeling it, think about what’s going on in my life to spark these thoughts, and then the only great option is to turn to God to see what he’s got to say about them and me. And then I listen when I ask him for help.
Listen to my body. When it’s time to go to bed. Or even nap. I know I should eat more salads and vegetables even though I don’t really love them, I feel it. But I also feel strongly not to stress about it. I’ve feel impressed to take more walks, and I’m so glad for all the times I’ve listened. I want to make it strong. So I can use it for good. I try to cherish it and love it instead of taking it for granted or talking poorly about it. I try to listen when God tells me it’s a gift.
Listen when I feel to do something good without coming up with excuses. For the time being, we don’t need to figure out if it’s from God or our own good idea. Go with it. Listen when we’re prompted to move. Especially in a way we weren’t expecting or even thinking about. Don’t brush it aside. There’s a reason we’re getting the idea. He needs us to be his hands. Sometimes we’re the only one who can help in a particular situation. Instead of lackadaisical, let’s be eager and ready whenever and however we’re needed. This is hard because there’s so little feedback to know if what we felt to do mattered. And yet, I have to think those ideas to check in with one of the kids or to text or email or call or write someone are inspired. Most of the time I have no idea what the point was, if it made any sort of difference. But I trust God. And I trust those familiar feelings. I’m learning to listen to even the subtlest of nudges.
Listen to nature, this one is so me. But I know it sounds like one of the paragraphs I should’ve omitted because it’s kind kind of fake-writer-like. But I’m good with keeping it because this one makes such a difference. And I can vouch for it first-hand. When I stop to hear the shrills and songs of the birds, the lapping and crashing of the waves, the popping and crackling of the fire, the wind in the grasses and leaves, the chatter of squirrels, the crunch of the snow, the crushing gravel, I’m present. Engaged and aware of what’s happening right now. Appreciative. Humbled. Nature is the easiest, fastest way to feel what’s real, to sift through all the noise and to center ourselves. To settle. One of my favorite listens.
Listening to children and old people is admittedly hard for me. I’m good with babies and their new coos and garbled words, but I’m impatient with the others. To slow down is something I’m forever working on. It takes time to make out what they’re saying, to read between the lines, to understand the significance and brilliance of their simple words. I’m pretty bad at this. I tend to shy away from these situations because they make me uncomfortable. I’m fast and efficient. I know I’m missing out. But the older I get, the more I’m recognizing I need to work on this.
Likewise, I’ve found so much value in listening to the wisdom of those who have lived long. I’m forever asking older moms and dads what advice they can give me, what they would’ve done differently, what they’re glad they did. Why not learn from those who’ve gone before us, who are a few miles down the road? The details are a little different between here and there, but not really. Listen. You’ll see.
I listened this year when I struggled with relationships. I didn’t want to hear it, but it was clear. Pray for them and love them. At first it wasn’t that great, my heart wasn’t that into it, I felt too hurt. But as I kept at it, I began to feel his love for these people, and it soothed me, I felt an honest love where only sadness had been before. I truly began to want their happiness. I eventually could see around myself and really see them. I want to do more of that. Not the ruffled relationship part, but the part where I listen to Heavenly Father’s counsel to love.
I guess if I had to get succinct with this all, I’d say it’s about listening to God. And others. And my own heart. Continue to open it, be vulnerable, be inclusive, give the benefit of the doubt, trust. Not exactly what the experts are touting these days, but like I care. It’s listening when He says Be still and know I am God. Internalize it. Believe him. Trust him. That he’s got this. That he can orchestrate the details. That I don’t have to worry about the how.
Listen. Be still. Settle. Calm down. Breathe. And breathe again. Don’t talk. Don’t form a response. Don’t fight it. Don’t wish this moment away. Don’t rush. Just listen.
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