After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord
was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.—I Kings 19:11-12
(NIV)
The posts this month are words
of life to me as a reader. The prompt for May causes me to ponder even as I
write my post. The simple yet profound statement of our own, Lynn Simpson, has
me recall a personal experience with the intimacy of words. In her post of
October 3, 2020, Lynn noted, “Yet, I have now learned, our voices don’t have
to be loud to be a role in change.” I love her line and resonate with it in
a big way. As I continue here, please allow me to explain.
https://inscribewritersonline.blogspot.com/2020/10/what-breaks-your-heart.html.
A Brief View of My Depression
of 1997
The fog came down first and
gripped me. Before long, the grey of the fog led me into the black of a tunnel.
I am trapped. No, I am lost.
I look at my words, and they
look at me. None of us speak. There is no urgency, only stillness. I smile, and
my words wink at me. A thought keeps going through my mind. “What do I do?
Where do I take these words and care for them?” Suddenly they move. My words
sit beside me, then embrace me. Their embrace sweeps over my thoughts and emotions.
I realize my words care for me. They listened to me in the stillness. My mind
clears and I know what to do. I too must listen. My words came to me unhurried,
quiet, gentle, and changed me.
Depression Taught Me to Listen
The fog, the tunnel, the
loneliness, and the darkness taught me about myself. This time of depression
allowed me to confront my insecurity, fears, and doubts in life. I realized I
had given too many years to them. I listened to the wrong words.
In my experience with
depression, I also experienced the intimacy of words. This time where I withdrew
into myself taught me to listen. I learned to listen more to who I am as a
person. As I learned more about the art of listening, it helped me to listen to
other people.
One’s ability to listen shows
a more personal and helpful approach to come alongside people. Listening skills
proved essential in my work as a chaplain. To listen to people who live with a
progressive or terminal illness taught me about life. I call them “my
teachers.” My teachers taught me to use words in a quiet manner.
Please allow me to recall one
precious visit. The person lived with Alzheimer’s disease. She no longer spoke in
an audible voice. She did, however, like to hold hands. This is how we spoke to
each other. No words. I learned to listen with my eyes as well. Her eyes
smiled. Her eyes told me she would die soon. A lesson I will never forget.
Here are a few humble lessons to share with you.
11. Practice stillness. There is no need to rush
through every day.
22. Listen
to stories people may speak from their darkness. The darkness can be crippling.
They may need help to find God’s light.
33. Be
gentle with those in the darkness. Listen to their words even if they stumble.
This may open them to hearing your quiet words.
44. We listen
to show we care. Your words don’t have to be loud to make a difference.
55. My
depression had a purpose. God did not leave me.
Alan
lives in Deroche, B.C. with his wife, Terry. He contributed stories to Good
Grief People by Angel Hope Publishing, 2017, Story by Story: The Power of a
Writer, Unstoppable Writers Publishing, 2018, and Easter Stories & More, by
InScribe Christian Writers’ Fellowship, 2021. He has also written articles for
FellowScript Magazine. Blog: https://scarredjoy.ca. Alan is the Provincial Rep.
Liaison and BC Rep for InScribe.
Alan, thank you for these beautiful gentle words that remind us that listening is so many different things. What a wonderful post to read this morning.
ReplyDeleteHi Joy! I always appreciate your encouragement. Yes, listening is indeed different things. I pray you are doing well and healthy these days. :)
DeleteThanks, Alan, for your words of wisdom in the gift and art of deep listening, and how essential it was for your chaplaincy. I'm just now preparing my heart and words to speak to a friend who keeps interrupting with her own stories. You've given me ideas and a way forward to speak with wisdom, compassion, as well as correction.
ReplyDeleteHi Sandi. I pray the time with your friend goes well and you have opportunity to listen to each other.
DeleteJust being there can be a comfort to those who are shattered by life's events. Job's friends spent a week in silence with him. Then they ruined it all by speaking their minds. It would have been better for Job and them to have zipped their lips.
ReplyDeleteHi Bruce! Friends who care for us know when to speak and when to listen.
DeleteYour words are so profound, yet gentle, even as you expressed. Thank you for sharing from your heart. You are an inspiration to many in that you are willing to be vulnerable even in your brokenness, so that others may be blessed. In so doing, you DO bless many and also, yourself, I think. :)
ReplyDeleteHi Tracy! Listening to people as they tell me their stories blesses me. My thought is when we are aware of personal brokenness we are then able to empathize more with others.
DeleteYour listening is so meaningful, Alan, and so healing. I think we need to listen to people even more now than ever.
ReplyDeletePam M.
Hi Pam! I always look forward to your comments when you have time. You are right. Listeners are definitely needed these days. So many loud voices speak without listening at this time. As listeners we can make a difference in the midst of today's clamour, my friend.
DeleteOut of your ‘fog’ have come radiant beams of hope, Alan. How often wisdom comes from the struggle. Wisdom and compassion that could not come any other way. Many thanks.
ReplyDeleteHi Sharon! You understand. Thank you.
DeleteI loved the way you connected with the woman with Alzheimer's disease. It was a great gift to her, and also to you.
ReplyDeleteHi Belinda! Thank you. I believe, my teachers, gave me greater gifts than I may have given them. Serving them was a tremendous honour. Blessings to you, my friend.
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