Sometimes, I imagine I’m a well-known writer. With all of my other imaginary qualities, I’m a splendidly-rounded personality. The truth is, however, that I have a hard time expressing myself. My emotions don’t translate well into prose.
But tonight I’m thinking that maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Expressing myself doesn’t have to be my notable character attribute. What if I were a good listener instead?
My time of training in New York brought out reflective questions: Do I listen with my heart? Do I hear the longings behind the words people are saying? Or am I too preoccupied with finding an avenue of expressing myself?
God used New York for my “ah-ha!” moment. The real training has started since I’ve been home. So many people need listening to. What have I been missing out on all these years?
Today I had lunch with a lady from church who shared some of the struggles of being a mom. In class tonight, a student told me about the discrimination she sometimes faces as an immigrant. Just when I thought I’d used up my daily quota of compassion, another acquaintance expressed concern over potentially losing her job over a moral issue.
So, I listened. Now what? What exactly does “weep with those who weep” (Rom. 12:15) look like from day to day?
I guess I’m still learning.