Wednesday, September 19, 2007
THE GIFT OF LISTENING.....
Last week I wrote about Becky and I visiting neighbors who lost their youngest daughter in a fatal vehicle accident. Our mission was to go and listen and let them talk about whatever was on their mind. When we first arrived we were greeted with hugs and tears that spilled over but as the evening wore on they were able to reminisce about better days and talked about my mom and dad.
My parents and they visited a lot over the years (living next to one another) and they were like a mother and dad to this couple who had three small children. As a teen-ager their son was interested in mechanics and would come over a lot of evenings to talk with dad about engines and how to fix something or other on his car. Dad was a born mechanic and enjoyed the visits……he retired as a field mechanic for the Missouri Highway and Transportation Department. As you know, retired people with a lot of job pride (in their expertise) love to pass it on to people who are interested. Dad was also an excellent teacher.
There was the time when we visited mom and dad one summer and my three children liked to play with their three children. Mike had some kind of a bicycle that John rode on behind him. On one of the corners at high speed, John was thrown off the bike and hit the road with his chin taking the brunt of the fall. When he came to the house his chin was hanging in shreds with gravel stuck in the open wound.
My dad got him in the car and took him to their doctor who sat him on the table to do some stitching. Dad was really proud of John who was probably around the age of six or seven at the time. He came back and said John sat and let Doc sew him up without a whimper. Dad admired bravery and for a treat we had supper at “Joe’s” which was a cheeseburger and fry place on main street. At that age, John would do anything for a cheeseburger. I think I should have named him Wimpy.
Well, there were many times we were with the family on our visits to see Mom and Dad. Last night Becky and I went down the hill to visit the sister of the girl who was killed in the wreck. Debbie and her husband, Larry live “behind” her parents on part of the land they bought from her dad. When we moved here in 1971 we have had a lot of good times with Larry and Debbie and they are close as family.
If there is ever a time to practice listening it is when you visit people who are still in shock over their personal tragedy. Every time they are allowed to talk about the things going on inside of them a therapy is working to ease their pain. The more they talk it out, the more they are able to get through their grief.
We left with hugs all around and drove home the short distance. The moon was beautiful and there was a balmy soft breeze as we departed. It seemed the world was mellow and full of love. I drank it in as my thoughts turned to Rocky.
Essentially Esther
My parents and they visited a lot over the years (living next to one another) and they were like a mother and dad to this couple who had three small children. As a teen-ager their son was interested in mechanics and would come over a lot of evenings to talk with dad about engines and how to fix something or other on his car. Dad was a born mechanic and enjoyed the visits……he retired as a field mechanic for the Missouri Highway and Transportation Department. As you know, retired people with a lot of job pride (in their expertise) love to pass it on to people who are interested. Dad was also an excellent teacher.
There was the time when we visited mom and dad one summer and my three children liked to play with their three children. Mike had some kind of a bicycle that John rode on behind him. On one of the corners at high speed, John was thrown off the bike and hit the road with his chin taking the brunt of the fall. When he came to the house his chin was hanging in shreds with gravel stuck in the open wound.
My dad got him in the car and took him to their doctor who sat him on the table to do some stitching. Dad was really proud of John who was probably around the age of six or seven at the time. He came back and said John sat and let Doc sew him up without a whimper. Dad admired bravery and for a treat we had supper at “Joe’s” which was a cheeseburger and fry place on main street. At that age, John would do anything for a cheeseburger. I think I should have named him Wimpy.
Well, there were many times we were with the family on our visits to see Mom and Dad. Last night Becky and I went down the hill to visit the sister of the girl who was killed in the wreck. Debbie and her husband, Larry live “behind” her parents on part of the land they bought from her dad. When we moved here in 1971 we have had a lot of good times with Larry and Debbie and they are close as family.
If there is ever a time to practice listening it is when you visit people who are still in shock over their personal tragedy. Every time they are allowed to talk about the things going on inside of them a therapy is working to ease their pain. The more they talk it out, the more they are able to get through their grief.
We left with hugs all around and drove home the short distance. The moon was beautiful and there was a balmy soft breeze as we departed. It seemed the world was mellow and full of love. I drank it in as my thoughts turned to Rocky.
Essentially Esther
