We walk around this world inside our own heads or staring down at our phones. It's not often that we look up to see the movement, the colors, the people all around us. In our bubbles we forget to connect with others when, more than anything, we need other people. We're so caught up in our own problems and thoughts that we forget that every passing person has their own life story.
Being more on the introverted side I've always liked to listen more than I like to talk. There's just something fascinating about watching a person open up to tell you a tale that is unique to them. No one person out of the seven billion that live on the planet has the exact same story. Everyone is fighting a different battle that we don’t see from the outside. People are all carrying around masks on their faces to keep societal norms all the time and to see someone take off that mask for you is one of the most beautiful things that could happen.
Last spring I was sitting in a coffee shop doing school work and a woman sat down beside me. In suburbia we are all just kind of bumping into each other but somehow always managing to stay to ourselves. I minded my own business focusing in on the essay I was writing, but this woman was loud. She argued with a lawyer for what seemed to be at least thirty minutes before she hung up the phone. Her stressed hands went to her forehead in a motion of lost hope. She ordered a drink, returned, and began to make small talk with me. I was polite, but not intrusive, and then somehow small talk turned to big talk. Before I knew it I had spent two hours listening to her life story. I heard about her being a teenage mother and hastily marrying the father of her child. She told me how they later had two more children and soon she was left to be a single mother to three. She had left her husband and fled a couple of states over to Georgia to escape his abuse. Her current battle was that her oldest son was facing jail time, years of it, because he shoplifted. She knew that wasn’t the true character of her son and felt that the punishment was too harsh as it was a first time offense. She explained to me how many lawyers had turned their backs on the case, and how expensive fees were for the ones who would take it. But she pronounced her faith that everything would work out in the grand scheme of their lives. When she left she was smiling and it seemed like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
I could have finished my essay in those two hours, but instead I listened to a woman who needed an ear. At 18 I had nothing to offer her but that––no wisdom or helpful connections with lawyers. Just my ability to listen. My willingness to listen to her made a difference in her day and in her mood. But I left changed, too. Her strength and her faith in the face of her trials had shined brightly and inspired me. If we can just stop and think of something outside of ourselves we will find gifts in others.
