Collecting Moments

I stopped to catch my breath at an overlook a few feet below Barr camp. The clouds which once hovered above me like an unreachable dream, now encompassed me. I was a trespasser in another world. The earth stretched forth beneath my feet like an elaborate tapestry of lakes, towns, and trees.  My eyes were no longer limited in their reach, I could see for miles. Thunder in the distance kept time. Each passing rumble warned with increasing urgency of a coming storm and cautioned us to leave the mountain.  

Hours later I sat alone on a stump at the foot of the mountain. I grasped one blood-stained sock in each hand as I admired the scrapes and scratches the mountain had left on my bare legs. All of the pain which had eluded me on the side of the mountain now flooded my body in a single instant. I gazed up at the mountain towering above me: Pike’s Peak, one of the many 14’ers in the Rocky Mountain range. I almost expected time to stand still in appreciation of the moment. But I knew it wouldn’t; it never did.  Nonetheless, I knew that I would never forget that moment. It was mine for a lifetime.

I am a collector of such moments.

Buy Experiences, Not Things

My father is a teacher, not by trade, but by nature. Growing up, I could never escape his lessons.

Throughout my childhood, my father drove a used, two-door Toyota. It was a distinct powder blue. We always joked that you had to wind it up in order to make it move. Every weekend, without fail, I would see this car sitting in our driveway waiting to be cleaned. My father would do so with great care. In fact, based on the time and effort exerted on this weekly exercise, one might assume my father drove a Rolls-Royce. My brother and I were often commissioned to assist. We would meticulously clean the car’s exterior, scrub the tires with brushes, vacuum the interior, and once all of those tasks were completed to my father’s satisfaction, my father would bring out the little green tub of Turtle wax. Inevitably, my brother and I would ask the obvious question: why are we spending our weekend cleaning an old car with 200,000+ miles? My father never missed a beat, “If you don’t take care of the little you do have, there is no reason to think that will change when you have more.”

As a teenager in a rush to get to school, I would often leave behind a shirt or two crumpled in a pile on my bedroom floor. I could always expect a gentle reminder, “I want you to think of that sweater as money you are throwing on the floor. How much did that sweater cost? Would you like it to last? If you take care of your sweater, you won’t have to buy another sweater so soon and you can use that money for more worthwhile things.”

There was also the curious case of half-eaten bananas and half empty water bottles that my brother and I would leave scattered around the kitchen. Why finish the old banana when you could have a new one? Why finish a warm water bottle when a new one waited in the fridge? And so my father would teach us, “I want you to think of half-eaten bananas and half consumed beverages as the equivalent of a nice meal at a restaurant, a gift you could give to a friend, or a trip to explore a new city. These little wastes add up.”

It was a sensible notion. Time invested in caring for things now, would yield future benefits and savings.  Over time, as with most of my father’s theories, I found this one to be completely true. As a result of my father’s diligence, our appliances broke less often, our cars ran longer, our houses maintained their value, and our clothes lasted beyond a season.

However, from a child’s perspective, this sensibility often resembled frugality. My brother and I could never understand why we couldn’t eat at restaurants as often as other families, have all of the latest and greatest toys and gadgets, leave our clothes on the floor, and throw away half-eaten bananas. My father’s love was never in question. We knew he would have given us the world, and in many ways he did. To this day, we both count it one of the great privileges of our lives to have been raised by such a man.

And yet every time we would complain about his diligence or beg for new toys to add to our already substantial collection, he would counter: “But I want to take you to Yellowstone this summer,” “I want you to see the ocean,” or “I want you to try playing soccer/the violin.” My father spent only what he had and no more. He knew that in order to afford these experiences, certain sacrifices were required along the way. We could not have everything we desired.  His lesson was a notable one:

Where possible, buy experiences, not things.

And so we did.

For 18 years, we invested time and money in experiences. We collected moments. We traveled to every corner of this vast and beautiful country. We found that spilled food outside the family tent makes for a restless night of alleged bear sightings in the Sequoias. We learned that jokes about smuggling children are not well received at the Canadian and Mexican borders. We re-lived the opening scene of Gilligan’s Island on a stormy day in the Gulf of Mexico and found ourselves alone on a small deserted island. Like my opening story, we learned that there are very few experiences in life as rewarding as standing on top of a mountain, hiking to the bottom of a valley, or rafting through rough waters.  

These moments are mine.

These experiences are mine.

These stories are mine.

They are my heritage. They are my inheritance. They are of greater worth and value to me than any material possession my parents could leave me. After all, I cannot recall a single gift from my 7^th birthday. I cannot name one wrapped toy under the Christmas tree the year I turned ten. But I will never forget the places we saw, the people we met, the risks we took, and the memories we made. I am an heir to my parents’ journey. As my mother once said, “We are on a wild ride, your father and I. I married an adventurer. You must marry an adventurer.” Herein lies another notable point: though commitment, marriage, and family are often viewed as the enemies of spontaneity, travel, and adventure, I have seen the two co-exist quite beautifully.

And so the wisdom of my father continues to echo in my mind, heart, and decisions still today:

Time spent caring for things now will yield future benefits and savings.

Where possible, buy experiences, not things.

Something New

It’s that familiar feeling of waking up in an unfamiliar place: The morning sun forces your eyes open as its rays push past the curtains, infiltrating the hotel room. In a moment somewhere between sleeping and waking, you quickly scramble to remember where you are. A smile builds on your face as you realize that the only task before you on this particular day is to explore all that exists outside your window. You have no job in this city. You have no obligations in this town.

You are a traveler.

We live in an unprecedented age of travel. Advances in transportation and technology have increased the ease with which people are able to travel the world, both for business and leisure. The Departures and Arrivals board at the airport is a menu of seemingly limitless options. Even as I type, travelers are arriving in new destinations, while others are leaving home, some for the first time. It is an endless exchange of people and places. There is not a single moment of any day where all of the inhabitants of the earth are on the ground at the same time. We are all constantly moving.

If people are the moving pieces, airports remain the chess board on which all of the pieces move from one point to the next. I must admit that I secretly enjoy airports more than any normal person probably should. I find them energizing. Businessmen rushing down the corridors to their terminals, a carry-on in one hand, their cell phone in the other. It would appear as though they spend their entire lives in the middle of a very important call. Young parents sitting at terminals struggle to corral their children. No sooner has one child been retrieved, than another is off and running. Retired couples, looking unusually tan for mid-January, stroll leisurely through the food court wearing sun dresses and floral shirts. No one needs to see their boarding passes to know where they are going. Though I will never know the names or stories of these individuals, I feel a certain camaraderie with my fellow travelers. We are all on our way somewhere; and in a matter of mere hours we will all be scattered across the world.

There are as many reasons to travel as there are travel destinations in the world.

I find that it is primarily my love of trying new things that keeps me on the move.  The reality is, at the end of my life when I reflect back on my journey, some of my favorite places will be places I have not yet been; some of my favorite cities will be cities I have not yet explored; and some of my favorite people will be people I have not yet met.

Trying new things creates the opportunity for new favorites. Every great passion and love was once new to us; something we tried for the first time.

It is worth noting that trying something new does not require the purchase of an expensive plane ticket. You do not need to leave your backyard to see the world. A few times a month, I require myself to try something new: to discover a new place, a new museum, a new store, or a new restaurant; to meet a new friend or develop a new hobby.  Sometimes I fulfill this challenge simply by biking on a new path or jogging down a new street. The smallest of changes. And yet, with each new step, I provide myself the opportunity to grow, change, and experience the world in a new way. As the old adage goes: if you always do what you’ve always done, you will always get what you’ve always got.

Five years ago, I decided to purchase a camera. I had no prior interest in photography. However, I had always been an appreciator of beauty and a few friends recommended that I make the investment. I had no idea at the time of the purchase that something as simple as buying a camera would change the way I viewed the world. The camera became an extension of my eyes and memory. The more I used my camera, the more I began to notice lights, textures, shadows, and colors in the world around me. Photography captivated me in a way very few things have.

I remember standing on the shore of the Pacific Ocean, looking out through my lens. A thought crossed my mind as I studied the horizon. It would be virtually impossible to take the same photo twice. Even if I held my camera completely still and paused only ten seconds in between shots, I would still capture two unique images. The waves from the first photo would be a distant memory by the time I took the second shot. Footprints and shells visible initially would be washed away by the incoming waves. Even birds that unknowingly made an appearance in the first image would have migrated further down the shoreline in the course of ten seconds. That is the beauty of photography. It captures a unique moment in time that once gone, is lost forever. The only evidence of the moments’ existence is the photo itself. Photography has changed me in surprising and unexpected ways. And yet it was once completely new to me… someone else’s hobby, someone else’s passion, and someone else’s dream…. until one day, I tried it.

And so I keep trying. I continue to travel to new places. I continue to seek out new experiences. I am always happy to do so alone. I enjoy my own company. However, my very favorite thing to do is to experience new things with the people in my life. There is just something about a shared experience. I have always been told that when hosting guests, one should prepare a familiar meal. Throwing that advice completely out the window, I enjoy finding new recipes and experimenting when hosting friends. The reality is, sometimes these new recipes burn or taste less than satisfactory. Sometimes they are surprisingly delicious. But they never fail to produce memories. Herein lies the beauty of shared memories: they are not always perfect memories. After all, trying new things can lead to great disappointment.  But interestingly enough, oftentimes our most difficult and disappointing memories, in time, become our favorite ones. Time has this uncanny ability to bring out the humor in most things. Being accused of fraud on a train in France with no ability to communicate with your accuser is not funny at the moment; however only a few weeks later I could not get through the story without laughing. My friends and I often sit around laughing about the movies we saw that turned out to be terrible or the restaurants we tried where the food was less than desirable. The joy wasn’t in the perfection of the moment; it was in the sharing of the moment.

I daily remind myself that the greatest moments of my life will not be moments spent on the couch or asleep. There is certainly a time for rest and relaxation. However, the world awaits outside my doors. Some of the most influential people in my life have only recently entered it. Some of the most life-altering thoughts I’ve had have been sparked by books, movies, stories, or people I encountered unexpectedly.  Some of the greatest meals I’ve enjoyed have been at places I never thought to try.

Try something new this week. Share a new experience with someone in your life. Invest your money and time in experiences, rather than things. Travel the world, beginning in your own backyard.

Do all of these things and there is no way you will leave the week the same way you entered it.

A Nativity Story

A dimly lit stable with a thatched roof. A trough filled with hay. A young woman in her 20’s gazes down at a peaceful, sleeping baby, while her husband looks on in adoration. Shepherds in cloaks gather around the new parents. The sheep stand completely still and silent as the animals look on in amazement. Three strangers from a far off land stand across from the shepherds holding gifts to present to the newborn infant.

A familiar scene.

Almost picturesque in its simplicity and tradition.

However, I would venture that our understanding of this timeless story is based less on the actual Biblical texts and more on a combination of cultural retellings and vague childhood church memories. I revisited the Biblical texts of the story this afternoon to once again delineate in my mind fact from fiction; to remind myself of the magnitude of this historical event; and to allow the clay figures sitting on my dresser to have a greater purpose and meaning this holiday season.

An Engagement

“The angel said to her, ‘Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God. You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus…”

“How will this be,” Mary asked the angel, “since I am a virgin?” The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.” – Luke 1:26

The age of Mary is not mentioned in either Gospel account of the birth of Christ (Matthew or Luke). However, Jewish tradition would place Mary somewhere between the ages of 12 and 14. It was customary in that era for Jewish marriages to be arranged by the parents of the bride and the groom. This typically occurred when girls entered adolescence. For legal purposes, the contract was considered binding upon the arrangement, though the wedding ceremony and consummation of the marriage would often occur much later. During the engagement period, the young bride would remain living in her parents’ home. If the bride became pregnant prior to the official wedding ceremony and consummation, she would face public disgrace and possibly even death.  

It was during this time of engagement that an angel, Gabriel, visited Mary who was engaged to be married to a carpenter named Joseph. The angel told Mary that she would bear a child, Jesus, and that this child would be the Son of God.

Pause.

Imagine a young girl, a child, tasked by God with carrying the promised Messiah that had been foretold for thousands of years prior to the visit of the angel. Mary’s concerns were great. She had much to fear. How would her parents react? How would Joseph, the man she was engaged to marry, respond? What would the townspeople say? Would she be stoned, beaten, or worse, put to death? Why had God chosen her? How would she even become pregnant? What did all of this mean? How would she raise the Son of God? Would Joseph leave her? Would she raise the child alone?

Upon hearing the news of Mary’s pregnancy, Joseph made plans to divorce Mary quietly to avoid exposing her to public disgrace. The Gospel of Matthew says that as Joseph was considering the divorce an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream. The angel told Joseph that he should not fear taking Mary home as his wife and that what was conceived in her was from God.

Again, this visit from the angel must have sparked more questions than answers. However, with grace, Mary trusted God and with integrity, Joseph obeyed God and stood by Mary despite public shame and outcry.

A Census

“In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered.  This was the first registration when Quirinius was governor of Syria.  And all went to be registered, each to his own town. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the town of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be registered with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child.” – Luke 2

The road from Nazareth to Bethlehem was an arduous one.  Matthew and Luke provide little detail regarding the roughly 80 mile journey, as early readers of the text would have been familiar with such journeys and terrains. Our modern minds require more context. The route to Bethlehem was anything but simple. At times, Mary and Joseph would have been faced with steep, rocky, hills and embankments interrupted only by stretches of dry desert flatland. The couple would have been exposed to all of the elements: rain, wind, temperature drops at night, and wild animals common to the Judean desert.  Additionally, robbers and thieves often waited along the trade routes for unsuspecting travelers.  

Many renditions of the Nativity story place Mary on the back of a donkey. This may very well have been the case, given cultural norms, however the Bible never specifically mentions a donkey. We do know that Mary was likely far along in her pregnancy during the difficult journey. Most versions of the Nativity story show Mary and Joseph arriving in Bethlehem on the night of her delivery frantically looking for a place to stay, however, the couple may have been in Bethlehem a few days prior to the delivery if not longer. The Bible only says, “While they were there (Bethlehem), the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son.” (Luke 2:6)

A Manger

Jesus was born in a stable outside of Bethlehem, because there was no room for Mary and Joseph in the inn. Right? Enter adorable Pig-Pen playing the role of innkeeper in A Charlie Brown Christmas.

If you’re anything like me, growing up, I thought of this “inn” as an ancient Marriott. I was always quite appalled at the Bethlehem townspeople for not making room for a pregnant Mary. Surely there was an extra room or at the very least a sister hotel chain down the road. The Greek word for “inn” used in the Biblical texts is commonly translated as “guest room.” Given cultural norms of the day, upon arriving in Joseph’s ancestral hometown, Mary and Joseph would have likely attempted to stay with family. However, there may not have been room in the living quarters or guest rooms given that all of Joseph’s family members were required to be in town for the census. At that point, Mary and Joseph may have elected to stay in a lower level room of the family home where animals were often kept inside for safe keeping at night. It was not uncommon in that era for mangers and troughs to be located inside the house for that reason, particularly on the ground level. The words “stable” and “cave” are not mentioned in either Biblical account of the birth of Christ. The idea that Jesus was born in a stable outside of Bethlehem has become part of our tradition likely because the Bible mentions the baby being placed in the manger. The exact location of the delivery within Bethlehem is unknown.

However, we do know that shepherds visited Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus following the delivery. As evidenced by the fact that modern day women do not invite odorous, loud cattle and sheep into their hospital rooms during delivery, it is safe to assume that this created quite the scene on that miraculous night in Bethlehem.

A Visit

“Now after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, saying ‘Where is He who has been born King of the Jews? For we have seen His star in the East and have come to worship Him.’”

Growing up, I never thought to question the three random men in fancy gold robes standing beside Mary on the night of her delivery. Who were these men? What was their purpose? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I enjoyed saying the words “frankincense” and “myrrh.”

Though the Bible does not state how many wise men visited the baby Jesus, Nativity scenes traditionally depict three men as there were three gifts presented to the child: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. The Bible offers very little detail regarding these men, except to say that they were from “the East,” most likely Persia.  The word “magi,” used interchangeably with the term “wise men” in the Biblical texts, originally referred to a line of Persian priests who were interested in signs and astrology.

There is no evidence to suggest that these wise men were present on the night of the delivery. In fact, based on the timeline laid out in the remaining chapters of Matthew and Luke, the wise men may have visited Jesus as late as age 2. “After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem.” –Matthew 2:1

A Question

There is a great deal of mystery surrounding the birth of Christ. Though it is fascinating to further study and corroborate the varying interpretations of the many peripheral facts, only one seems to truly matter, Jesus was born.

It was an event of historical significance. In fact, for centuries we have measured time itself by the birth of Christ. However, the person of Jesus is not unique to Christianity alone. Many people, even other world religions, affirm that a man named Jesus was born, lived, and died over 2,000 years ago. There is, however, a vital fork in the road. Though many believe Jesus was born and walked the earth, there are widely differing perspectives on his deity and what He came to accomplish.

These are questions worth asking: Who is Jesus? Why was the birth of one child so significant?

There are many answers to these questions. Tonight, I share mine.

This coming Wednesday night at candlelight Christmas Eve services across the country and around the world masses will sing the songs of the season. We are all guilty of mindlessly reciting the century-old lyrics, but have you considered the words?

“Long lay the world in sin and error pining, ‘till he appeared and the soul felt its worth. A thrill of hope, a weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.” – O Holy Night

“No more let sins and sorrows grow, nor thorns infest the ground. He comes to make His blessings flow, far the curse is found” – Joy to the World

“Radiant beams from thy holy face, with the dawn of redeeming grace.” – Silent Night

“Peace on earth, and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled!” –Hark! The Herald Angels Sing

God and sinners reconciled? The dawn of redeeming grace? Yonder breaks a new and glorious morn? Thorns and cursed ground? Huh?

What does this have to do with a baby in a manger?

Everything.

Just as I could not convey the meaning of the Lord of the Rings trilogy by describing the first 30 seconds of the first movie, it would be impossible to explain the significance of Jesus by only describing His birth.

The Christmas story begins in Genesis. The very first chapter, the very first verse. God created a perfect, sinless world. He created man in His image. Only a few chapters in, sin enters the picture. God tells Adam and Eve that because of their disobedience, the ground is now cursed.

“He comes to make His blessings flow, far the curse is found”

God tells Adam and Even that there will now be struggle. There will now be sin.  

“Long lay the world in sin and error pining”

There will now be separation between a perfect God and sinful man.

"God and sinners reconciled!"

The Old Testament is filled with prophecies of a coming Messiah, a Savior, a Lord, from the line of David, who would become a mediator between God and man. A solution to the problem of sin.

“Joy to the world! The Lord is come!”

He would reign with grace. Man would no longer require the sacrifice of animals to atone for sin, rather, God Himself would become flesh, walk among us for 33 years, and become a final sacrifice through an excruciating death on a cross. He would be our redeemer.

“With the dawn of redeeming grace”

The Christmas story does not end there, on a cross or in a tomb. After three days, Jesus would raise from the dead, conquering death and the grave, and opening the door for all who put their faith and trust in Him to find forgiveness of sin.  Perhaps the greatest Christmas verse in the Bible is not found in the accounts of the birth of Christ, but in the Gospel of John where it is written, “For God so loved the world, that He sent His only son, that whoever believes in Him would never perish, but have eternal life.”

A Reminder

The shepherds

The wise men

Mary & Joseph

All central figures in the Nativity story.

However, there were other characters along the way. We never met them, but common sense would tell us that in the course of 9 months of pregnancy, 80 miles of travel, and months spent in Bethlehem, Mary and Joseph would have interacted with a large number of individuals. Some may have scoffed and yet others may have been of great help and assistance to the couple. However, one thing is certain. No one, not even the central figures in the story could have possibly fathomed the magnitude of that moment in history.

They were ordinary people in an extraordinary moment.

The miraculous was taking place. History was unfolding before them. God was intervening on earth.

Many were completely unaware.

On a much lesser scale, we also often find ourselves in the presence of the miraculous and remain completely oblivious to the magnitude of the moment.

After all, God is Emmanuel. He is with us; that is the great gift of Christmas. He is not a silent, distant, God who does not concern Himself in the affairs of men. His joy, His peace, His love, everything that He came to earth to bring can be seen all around: in a stranger helping an elderly woman across the street; a neighbor shoveling the driveway of a single mother next door; a soldier giving his life for those he fights alongside; a kind word that touches a heart or motivates a life; a thoughtful gift that reminds us we are known and loved.

Let us not be caught unaware this Christmas season of the extraordinary moments taking place all around us. Where possible, let us do all within our power to create these moments for others. Let us share the joy, peace, love, and grace that the birth of Jesus brings and most of all, let us not limit it to a season.

Listen

As a child, my concept of listening was simple and concrete. To listen was to not speak, to be silent.

When a teacher raised their hand in school, demanding the attention of the class, I responded by being silent. Their raised hand meant that I was not allowed to speak, not that I was required to listen to what they were about to say.

Consider the amount of time spent in our childhood and adolescent years developing the art of speaking. As toddlers we are repeatedly taught words and phrases as speaking skills are considered a vital milestone in a child’s growth and development. As school children, we are taught to expand our vocabulary and even take on second languages. In comparison, very little time is spent developing effective listening skills.

This lack of development is further complicated by our technology driven culture. Distractions are always readily available. We likely spend more time in front of screens than we do in front of people. Even our social interactions have become increasingly screen-based with the rise of social media. Interestingly enough, one of the primary drivers behind social media seems to be the desire of people to be seen and heard. And yet, it seems that social media can often prevent us from truly seeing or hearing those around us.

These potential obstacles to good listening are not insurmountable. They can and should be overcome. There is great value in listening. Good listeners can be as powerful and magnetic, if not more so, than great orators.

My view of what it means to listen has changed significantly since childhood. I have learned that listening is much more than silence. And yet, no matter how much knowledge and experience I obtain in the art of effective listening, I still find that at times I am a terrible listener. Perhaps you feel the same. Like many skills in life, I find that listening requires discipline.

I have an accounting degree, so I am certainly not qualified to conduct research or provide concrete answers regarding human behavior and communication skills. However, that which I have seen and experienced in my own life, I gladly share.

Listening: Ping Pong

"Most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply."
-Stephen R. Covey

We have all been guilty of this. Another person is speaking and rather than focusing on their words and ideas with the intent of understanding, our mind is spinning. We are trying to construct and formulate the perfect response, the witty response, the clever response, the crushing response, or whatever the case may be. We see this on full display in political debates. One side speaks, while the other side plans a rebuttal.

Good listeners seek to understand before seeking to be understood. They are engaged and focused on what the other person is saying. For illustration purposes, imagine for a moment two colleagues engaged in a conversation around politics or a relevant news story.

In the first scenario, the conversation moves back and forth across the table like a ping pong game. Neither side listens to the other. Rather, as one person speaks, the other uses that opportunity to build a response. The listener sits there almost shaking in anticipation, waiting for that moment where words stop coming out of the speaker’s mouth so words can start coming out of their own. Both sides walk away from the conversation completely unheard and completely unchanged. 

Imagine a second scenario where instead of simply taking turns exchanging noise, the listener uses the time the speaker is talking to process, understand, and formulate clarifying questions. “You mentioned ________, could you elaborate? I want to make sure I understand.” “I’d be curious to hear more of your thoughts on ________.” “Why do you think that is?” Perhaps the willingness to listen on one side would be contagious and cause the speaker to respond in kind. Or perhaps only one side would choose to listen and the other side would retain the primary role as speaker. Either way, the listener would walk away from the conversation with a much greater understanding of the speaker’s viewpoint. The speaker would feel more validated and heard and both sides would at least allow themselves the opportunity to be impacted and changed.

Even in a less heated exchange, we have all been guilty of waiting for someone to stop speaking not so we could respond/react to their words, but rather so we could deliver a joke, story, or even unrelated comment that we were developing as they spoke.

Good listeners seek to understand, not to reply.

Listening: Squirrel!

"You cannot truly listen to anyone and do anything else at the same time." -M. Scott Peck

There is a profound difference between listening and hearing. Most of us have experienced a conversation with someone who is clearly distracted. Upon pausing or acknowledging their distraction, they attempt to prove to us that they are listening by reciting our words back to us, “I’m listening. You were talking about your weekend and your hiking trip.” The only thing this proves is that they heard us, not that they were listening to us.

Admittedly, we live in an age of distraction. It is practically inescapable. The reality is, there will be times where we either need to or choose to check our phones, respond to texts, or read emails during conversations. There are times we will allow ourselves to be distracted by a TV show, a sports game, or the environment around us. After all, we are only human. Most of us do not have the capacity to be fully focused on our present conversation or present company at all times.

Though it may be impossible to completely eliminate distractions, good listening often requires minimizing these distractions. We have all struggled to hold a conversation with someone who clearly wanted to be somewhere else. It can leave a bad and bitter taste. Granted our view of self should not rise and fall based on the way others respond to us. We have just as much value and worth regardless of whether the person we are speaking to acknowledges or appreciates that or not. However, as stated earlier, we are only human and are not immune to hurt and disappointment. I have left conversations feeling like the least captivating/interesting person on earth. I have left conversations feeling incapable of holding someone’s attention. Sadly, I am sure that I have caused others to feel this same way at times, which is an upsetting thought to say the least.

Good listeners minimize distractions. They understand that the person speaking is more important than other things that would compete for their attention in that moment. They understand that sometimes the greatest gift we can give someone is our attention. Good listeners recognize the difference between hearing and truly listening.

I have learned over the years to be open and honest when I find myself distracted. It can be as simple as:

“Let me send this text before we start talking.”

“I’m going to check the game score quickly as we walk.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t really listening, can you please start again? I really want to hear.”

I am never upset by someone saying these things to me and I find that others respond similarly. Everyone understands the temptation of distraction. Pausing and admitting distraction shows your intent to truly listen and is typically well-received by the speaker. 

Listening: Empathy

"Empathy takes time, and efficiency is for things, not people." Stephen Covey

Empathetic listening is crucial, and yet very difficult to employ on a regular basis. Empathy is commonly defined as, “An ability to imagine oneself in another's place and understand the other's feelings, desires, ideas, and actions.”

Imagine a friend shares with me, “My boss asked me to travel to Florida this week to speak at a conference….” I casually respond with, “That’s great! The weather will be so nice there this time of year! Have fun!” A harmless response at first glance. However, what I have done is project my own personal response onto the speaker. I have projected how I would feel if I had been asked to go to Florida. The empathetic listener thinks…

They mentioned last time that they don’t like traveling because they miss their children

Their mother is really sick, it will probably be hard for them to get away

They hate public speaking, this is probably a stressful trip for them

The empathetic listener does not project their own thoughts and feelings onto the speaker, but rather stands in the speaker’s shoes. Empathetic listening requires a great deal of effort for this reason. An empathetic listener uses their heart, mind, and memory to hear what is being said, not just their ears.

Listen: Magnet

"Friends are those rare people who ask how we are, and then wait to hear the answer." -Ed Cunningham

The art of listening is inseparable from the art of effective question-asking. Good listeners tend to be inquisitive. Asking someone “How was your holiday?” will likely initiate a conversation and provide an opportunity to listen that may not have otherwise been provided. However oftentimes, there is an even better question to ask. A close friend may open up with such a general, broad question. However, others may require more encouragement. For example, “Did your sister make it home for the holiday weekend?” This moves the conversation past a response of, “The holiday went well” and begins to offer the other person a place to start and a foundation to build the conversation on. This is a specific question which will likely lead to a specific answer and open the door for further questions. Perhaps an even better question if you know the individual is, “Did Sarah (“sister” in this case) make it home for the holiday weekend? She just had a baby, right?” This personalizes the question and shows a history of listening and understanding.

Practically speaking, I attempt to construct meaningful questions through my cell phone. On a somewhat regular basis, I glance through my text messages and list of contacts. As I see a name, I think back to the last time I spoke with that person and what was said in the exchange. Did they mention an upcoming vacation, doctor’s appointment, or wedding? Did they share something personal with me that I have yet to follow up on? Did they share exciting news I could ask more about? This allows me to construct thoughtful follow up questions for our next encounter or reminds me to send an email/text/card to follow up more immediately. After all, I genuinely care and want to know, but in the midst of busyness, knowing can often require some intentionality.

It is important to use discernment in the area of question-asking. Some questions can serve to initiate and further the conversation while other questions can serve to derail the conversation and even stifle it completely. For example, imagine two friends catching up over drinks. One friend is eager to share about an unsettling conversation she had with her mother after a weekend spent at home. She begins setting the stage for her story and shares that her family spent Friday night at a restaurant downtown and casually mentions that they bumped into one of their mutual college friends while at the restaurant. At this point, the conversation moves towards:

“Oh really? How is so-and-so?”
“Oh, she’s fine I think, we didn’t really get a chance to catch up. Like I said, we just bumped into her briefly.”
“Do you remember that trip we took with her in college? Did she end up marrying that guy she was seeing?”

The conversation has now turned towards something the speaker never intended to focus on. If this is a casual conversation, these twists and turns are natural and expected. However, when you observe that something is troubling the person speaking, the only questions that should be asked are clarifying questions. Other points can be revisited later. A good listener allows the speaker to voice their thoughts, concerns, and story fully, asking questions only to better understand what is being said. Good listeners do not interrupt or interject their own agenda.

Questions show interest. People are drawn to those who take an interest in them. Good listeners and good question-askers are often magnetic individuals for this reason.

Listening: Not Right Now

If people truly care about me, they will give me their full, undivided attention whenever I require it, right? Well, not exactly. This is an important point and one worth ending on. Listening is a powerful skill to develop for reasons mentioned above and countless others. However, we will never be perfect listeners and we need to be patient with each other in this regard. I often chuckle when my parents talk over each other or one fails to realize the other is speaking. Do they love each other? More than you could imagine. Do they listen to each other? Yes, they value each other’s thoughts and words above all others. However, they also spend countless hours together during any given week. There is a comfort level there. And while they seek to listen to each other well, there are many times where they fail to do so. And I would argue, that’s okay. Part of the joy of friendship, love, and relationships is bearing with one another; it’s loving people as they are and not as you might like them to be in any given moment.

When I was a child, my parents taught me that what I had to say was valuable. I learned that I was worth listening to. However, they also taught me that I was not the center of their universe. I was not the center of anyone’s universe. There were times I was told, “Not right now” “Don’t interrupt” “I am talking to someone else, you can tell me later.” That was a healthy thing for me to hear as a child and is a beneficial thing for me to remember as an adult. Perhaps the best time to demand someone’s attention isn’t after they return from a stressful day at the office. Perhaps the conversation can wait until after the football game is over. Perhaps the car ride home isn’t an ideal time for an intense debate.

All of that being said:

Who listens to you?

Who values and respects your thoughts, ideas, and opinions?

Are you a good listener?

Who are you failing to listen to and in what ways?

I challenge you as I have challenged myself to take time to listen this week and have grace for yourself and others when you fail to do so perfectly.

 

Party Napkins

PARTY NAPKINS

I grew up in a party house.

Everything was a cause for celebration.

Well beyond the typical celebratory events, such as birthdays and holidays, I found myself invited to daily parties and celebrations in honor of the most common life occurrences: the first snowfall of the year, a beautiful summer day, a new movie release, a good grade, a concert, a sporting event, a new job, a new bike, or even a visit from a friend.

I am quite convinced that my mother would often plan an entire party and only later dream up a reason for it. In fact, my mother added the word “party” to the end of just about everything we did. Some kids went to the pool. Not us. We had pool parties. What constituted a pool party? In our case it was shark fruit snacks, capri suns, our favorite cartoon beach towels, and a much anticipated trip to the pool at our Texas apartment complex. Some kids would watch football on Sunday afternoons. Not us. We had football parties. We would buy bread, meat, and cheese from the local grocery store and then stand behind the kitchen counter laughing uncontrollably as my dad pretended to be a Subway employee piecing together our sandwich orders as we shouted out our preferences. My mother would inevitably comment that we forgot napkins at the store. My father would remind her that we had plenty of napkins. Without hesitation, she would answer back, “But those are normal napkins, we need Cowboys playoff napkins.”

Herein lies an important truth regarding our celebrations: our parties were never about excess. A $3 package of party napkins and contagious enthusiasm were the only tools my mother needed to throw a good party. Underlying everything she did was a simple belief that there was always, always, always something to celebrate; a belief she still holds today.

My mother draws attention to the good in life. She talks about the good. She dwells on the good. She notices the good. She appreciates the good. She rants and raves about the good. She, more than anyone else I have ever encountered, celebrates the good.

In fact, constantly, without any prompting, my mother will comment on the good in her life, “I have the best life. It’s just so good. It’s almost embarrassing, Leah.” Now, anyone who knows my mother, knows that her life has not been without hardship. She has endured family, financial, and health struggles that might paralyze the average person. It is the lens through which she chooses to view her life that makes it seem so extraordinary. It is the good she chooses to see in life that leads her towards celebration over pity.

COMMON COLD

It is a basic life principle: what we feed inevitably grows. The things we give our thoughts and attention to flourish, while the things we ignore and neglect fade. The question then becomes, what are you feeding?

Do you devote more time to dwelling on and thinking about your problems and struggles or your joys and blessings?

When you talk about others, do you spend more time voicing frustrations and concerns or raving about their strengths and additions to your life?

When you come home from work does your spouse/significant other/roommate/parent hear more about the frustrations of the day or the joys of the day?

In general, is it easier to ruin your day or to make your day?

I find these points most easily illustrated through something as universal as the common cold. The common cold typically takes 10 days to complete a full cycle.

Day one: can you describe it? 

Though a considerable amount of time has passed since my last cold, I still find that I am able to describe day one in a great deal of detail. That initial moment when you wake up with a scratchy throat and think, "No... I can't be getting a cold. Maybe it will pass. Maybe the air is just dry or I slept with my mouth open. I'll just drink a lot of water this morning."

What about days 2 and 3? The days where each breath becomes more and more laborious as congestion sets in and a hacking cough develops.

Or days 4 and 5 where you sit buried in piles of kleenex and with each blow of the nose begin to look less like yourself and more like that most famous reindeer of all.

And then...

There are the rest of the days. The days that seem to blur together. You return to all of your normal activities, but not necessarily at 100%. Days 1, 2, and 3 become a distant memory and your symptoms are now just a minor disturbance in your daily life. In fact, it would be nearly impossible for you to pinpoint the exact moment when you experience your last symptom; your very last cough; your last sneeze; your last sense of fatigue. Your cold, which appeared suddenly and without much warning, leaves with a gradual ease, almost unnoticed.

I would propose that we are able to remember and explain the first five days of a cold in greater detail than the last five days of a cold because we have given more thought and attention to the struggle than to the relief. When our throats scratch, when our noses run, and when we struggle to breath, we think about it. We talk about it. People ask about it. We dwell on it. We lie awake at night because the cold symptoms demand our attention.

On the recovery side, we might devote a few moments to celebrating relief (the standard, “it feels good to be back to normal”), but in reality, its likely nothing more than a passing thought. It’s as though we feel entitled to recovery, so it does not seem an undeserved blessing worth celebrating when we find ourselves returned to full health. We expect to be healthy, not sick. We expect our cars to run, not to break down. We expect our family members and friends to remain living, not die. Therefore celebrating something we fully expect, such as health, a working car, or friends and family seems unnecessary and even somewhat excessive. However, when these things are taken from us, they instantaneously command our full and undivided attention.

For example, we might find it odd if a colleague entered the office and exclaimed, “My car started! What a good day!” On the contrary, it would seem very normal for someone to enter the office and exclaim, “My car wouldn’t start this morning! Now I have to take it in and probably pay a ton of money. What a hassle.”  

Following my most recent cold, my mother was overjoyed to hear that my voice had returned to full strength. For ten minutes during our respective commutes home, she talked about how happy she was that my cold was gone. She went as far as to say, “We should grab dinner and celebrate your good health!” This seemed an absurd notion at the time. What a silly reason to have a dinner. What a silly thing to spend even one more moment talking about. I was clearly over a very routine cold, moving on…

But no sooner had these thoughts crossed my mind, then I felt a great sense of conviction sweep over me. I was forgetting to celebrate the good. I was neglecting the lesson she had always taught me: Give just as much, if not more attention to the good in your life than you do the bad/hard/sad. The story found in the Gospel of Luke came to mind as I continued my drive. Jesus was traveling to Jerusalem and along the path encountered ten men with leprosy. He spoke to them and sent them on their way, and while they walked, they were all healed of their disease. Only one of the ten men returned to thank Jesus and celebrate his healing. The other nine men, who only moments prior, had been in terrible suffering, begging for relief, moved on as though the healing had never even occurred. I find this to be one of those special Bible stories where I self-righteously think, “I would never be like the other nine men” only to get sick with a common cold and realize, “Oh great, I’m exactly like them, and I don’t even have something as severe as leprosy.”

In order to celebrate the good, we must first recognize the good. Oftentimes, learning to identify the good takes discipline. Throughout our childhood, my mother always made one request of us when we arrived home from school, “Tell me something good that happened today.” My mother wanted to hear our frustrations. She wanted to be a listening ear and a safe place for us to vent. After all, struggles should never be ignored. There is certainly not wisdom or maturity in denying hardship or refusing to share it with the people around you. In fact, there can be great folly in that. But my mother was trying to instill in us a discipline that we would carry with us for the rest of our lives: Before we give our thoughts and attention to our frustrations, we must first acknowledge and celebrate the good. There were days when this was easier than others; and so she would guide us, “Did you see your friends at lunch? Was it fun?” “Did you have a good soccer practice?” “Did you get any good grades back?”

I still find myself doing this today. I often spend my commute home re-living the very best moments of my day. A mental highlight reel. I allow the little and simple joys of the day to bring my heart and mind disproportionately great happiness. A free coffee, a funny text from a friend, or even relief from a work deadline. The more I look for the good, the more I find it. The more I think about the good, the less severe the bad seems. The more I feed the good, the more it grows.  

BE OUR GUEST

Beyond the daily parties of my childhood, nothing was a greater cause for celebration than people. Guests came and stayed at our home for hours, days, weeks, and even months. As a guest, upon your arrival, my mother and father would greet you at the front door like you were a foreign dignitary arriving from a long journey (when in reality you could have been a neighbor arriving from next door).

It was always clear that your visit had been thought about, planned for, and highly anticipated. You might even find yourself slightly overwhelmed as my mother reached out to embrace you and my father simultaneously tried to remove all of the bags from your shoulders. You would be escorted to your room where you would find towels, shampoos and soaps, and gifts waiting. If we were taking you to a sporting event, the local team’s hat and shirt would be waiting on your bed. Your favorite snacks, books, and a few trinkets from around the city would be in a basket for your enjoyment. You would leave your bag behind and meander downstairs where you would find a feast of food and drink sprawled out across the kitchen counter. You would silently wonder to yourself if 20 other people would be coming over to help consume everything. Finally, you would be offered the coveted leather chair in the living room where my father and mother would sit with you, eating, drinking, and laughing while they inquired about your job, your family, your new dog, your fun vacation… fill in the blank. My mother would sit on the edge of her seat as you spoke, overjoyed by each word and story. Your joys would be her joys. Your heartaches would be her heartaches. If her reactions were any indication, it was clear that you had the most interesting life of any living person. You would leave feeling celebrated.

The example my parents set forth in this exchange was simple: Become a person who celebrates other people well.

I have to constantly ask myself: How well am I celebrating other people? Am I celebrating their successes, their joys, who they are, what they’ve accomplished, and their lives in general? Are the happiest days of other people’s lives the happiest days of mine as well? As Paul writes in the book of Romans, do I mourn with those who are mourning and rejoice with those who are rejoicing? Do I put my life on hold to acknowledge the lives of others? Do I remember in my own busyness to send cards, gifts, prayers, thoughts, and encouraging words when others get a new job, buy a new home, have a baby, get married, etc.?

We recently lost a dear family friend. Anyone who has experienced this loss, knows the feeling I am about to describe: the morning after someone’s death where you actually wake up crying. Reality does not even pay you the courtesy of waiting until you are fully awake before bombarding you with its unwelcomed presence. The person you care for so deeply is no longer here. That was it. Their time on earth is complete.

In a single instance, every good memory, thought, and emotion you felt for that person overtakes you and floods your mind. Immediately, any thoughts of, “Well, let’s not forget that they could be frustrating at times” or “I can’t believe they said that to me yesterday” flee your mind forever. You see only the good. Because of that, you also feel great loss. Nothing more can be said. Nothing more can be done. Their book is now closed, you may no longer write in it or contribute to its plot.

We are all so seemingly busy and important these days. But life waits for no one. We are never promised tomorrow. Life is worth celebrating today. People are worth celebrating always. There is good that daily goes unrecognized and uncelebrated. As odd as it may sound, we should all become more disciplined in the practice of celebrating and partying. We should all set aside more time to think about, dwell on, and celebrate the good all around us. My childhood was one big party. I am determined that the same will be said of my life. That like my mother’s home, my home will be a place of constant celebration, where life is enjoyed, people are treasured, and all of God’s blessings from the very greatest to the very smallest are daily acknowledged, appreciated, and celebrated.