WINSDAY WISDOM Session 11 LISTENING 101

My Saturday morning lawn mowing trance was interrupted by my wife’s wildly waving arms. I immediately suspected it was another warning to stay away from the flowers which once were victimized by my inattentive swerve to the left.

I descend from a long line of errant mowers. My grandfather once mowed down my grandmother’s daffodils and tulips. Our family debated over the years whether it was accidental or strategically planned, because he was never asked to mow again. My dad clipped my G.I. Joe and the duct taped water hose, more than once. My lawn mower chopped up an extension cord, dog chain, and Barbie’s gown.

This interruption was not about the flowers. My wife’s news was alarming. Bessie Adams called and needed to talk to her pastor immediately. Something terrible had happened.

She sounded hysterical and the news was not good, every word cloaked in fear and sadness. Her husband and brother-in-law had been kidnapped. She and her sister were safe in the custody of the state police who rescued them at the truck stop, the scene of the crime. I did my best to calm her down so I could understand the magnitude of the tragic events and how I might be of help.

D. K. Adams and Ernest Waldrop were two of the nicest gentlemen I have ever known. They married sisters, Bessie and Lucille, two of the kindest and most generous women in the world. I was blessed to be their pastor for several years when they were all at least eighty-five years young. The couples loved to travel, and their adventures were legendary.

D.K. and Earnest wore hearing aids which played an important role in the dynamics of their marital relationships because both sisters tended to talk incessantly. Everyone in the foursome understood the sound was turned up or down dependent upon the men’s interest in the subject. So, hand gestures and loud repetitions were commonplace to any conversation.

To think anyone might kidnap these easy-going AARP members was almost unthinkable. Bessie sobbed as she shared what she had witnessed. The couples were returning eastward from a Colorado trip, when they pulled into a rest stop near Clayton, New Mexico. When the ladies returned from their restroom break, they saw their car speeding out of the parking lot with their husbands inside. Shock and panic ensued.

This was no joke. The car and the men were gone. The ladies immediately notified the highway patrol of the harrowing abduction. A sheriff interviewed the women to get a detailed description of the missing men and the stolen vehicle. Bessie also gave a detailed description of a suspicious man she had seen earlier in the truck stop. She suspected he was a member of “Al Kinda.”  

The ladies were transported to a local police station to file an official missing persons’ report. When Bessie called me, I promised to pray and be quickly on my way to bring the ladies back home. My mind raced through the various possible scenarios. Would the police set up roadblocks? What if the hostages were held for ransom? What if the men could not hear the kidnapper’s demands?

I hurriedly developed plans to rescue the damsels in distress. As I was leaving town, Bessie called again to share good news. D.K. and Ernest were safe, the law enforcement would unite all of them, and they would drive home that evening.

I thought I could hear the old classic Peaches and Herb song playing in the background, “Reunited and it feels so good.”

Later that night, I received the details of their harrowing escapade. What happened would make a good story… someday. The men were tired from the trip and needed a restroom break. When they pulled into the truck stop area, the women were asleep in the back seat.

The good husbands did not want to disrupt the peaceful solitude; so, they did not disturb their sleeping beauties. Despite the men’s discreet thoughtfulness, the sisters awakened in the parked car and went inside to shop and use the restroom.

Meanwhile, the men quietly returned to the car with the assumption the deficiency of sound was because of their wives’ slumber party, not physical absence. So, the kind and thoughtful men continued their trip home.

The refreshed ladies walked outside to see their car speeding out of the parking lot. Now, D.K. walked slowly but was known to drive fast. However, the ladies suspected a hijacker forcibly commandeered the vehicle and was holding their husbands at gunpoint. They reported the kidnapping and stolen vehicle to the police.

An emergency alert was issued. A multi-state search for the hostages was launched. The odd couple victims were soon discovered at a Dairy Queen forty-five miles away. What happened sounds unbelievable unless you knew the couples and the vital role the hearing-aids played in their marital bliss.

How did this kidnap plot begin? D.K. and Ernest reentered their car at the New Mexico rest stop. They assumed their wives were still asleep in the back seat. So, they drove forty-five miles without hearing a word. Yep! Forty-five miles!

The story gets worse! The men were thirsty, so they stopped at the next town’s Dairy Queen. They went inside and ordered four (FOUR!) cokes. I said they were nice gentlemen. They never asked the wives if they wanted a Coke or at least, they never heard their response.

It was when the men returned to the car with the refreshing soft drinks that they could not find their lifetime companions. First, they assumed the ladies had gone inside to the bathroom. As time passed, they began to search for their wives. Ernest suggested the possibility the wives had been kidnapped!

The mystery began to unravel when the local sheriff spotted the men and the vehicle at the fast-food diner. The Mayberry deputy reported the location and carefully approached the car with his gun drawn. The men locked inside the car never heard his warnings or commands.

As Barney Fife crouched near the vehicle with his shaking gun, he radioed information to headquarters. He reported the elderly men as engaged in suspicious activity, moving around backseat blankets in possible cover-up of weapons or drugs. They remained unresponsive to his shouts for them to surrender. There was no sight of the kidnapper, but he might be the man eating a hamburger inside Dairy Queen.

The Three Stooges could not have filmed a more hilarious scene. When passenger Ernest finally noticed the nearby officer crouching near the vehicle, he began to excitedly shout for help. This spooked the sheriff who called for back-up. The cop motioned the suspects to put up their hands as the men wildly waved their hands to get his attention.

The lawman shouted louder, and the hostages turned to higher volume levels on their hearing aid devices.

Communication became miscommunication, more like the Abbot and Costello routine of Who’s on First? (Please google it if you are not familiar with this classic baseball comedy routine about Who’s on First, What’s on second, and I Don’t Know is on third).

The sheriff shouted, “Where is he?”

“Who?”

“The kidnapper.”

“What?”

“Where is he?”

“Who?”

“Your kidnapper.”

“What?”

“Who is your kidnapper?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where is he?”

“What?”

“Where is your kidnapper?”

“Who is kidnapping us?”

Eventually, D.K. and Ernest peacefully surrendered. I repeat; they are truly some of the quietest and nicest men on this planet. They would soon be reunited with their true loves. I would love to have been a fly on the wall of that car ride home. I suspect the backseat volume remained high while the hearing aids were extremely low, or off.

It was early the next morning at church when I saw D.K. He was a longtime usher who greeted everyone with a welcoming smile and hug. When he saw me at the other end of the foyer, he lowered his head and began a slow walk towards me. He looked like a sad, little puppy who spilled the trash.

I intercepted him halfway; he spoke softly, “Oh, Pastor! Oh, Pastor!” I put my arms around him as he buried his head into my shoulder. I did my best to console and encourage him. I think I even said it could happen to any of us. I wanted to laugh.

He said he was so embarrassed, and I responded it would be a funny story someday. His reply, “I don’t think Bessie and Lucille will let us live to see that someday.” They all did.

The husbands failed to pay attention to their wives’ whereabouts. The travel kidnap episode remained a sensitive subject for years and made future trips a little more stressful. The hearing aids came in handy for the guys.

Years later, I could better identify with D. K. Adams’ chagrin at his misfortunate travel adventure which left his talking bride behind in fear of a kidnap caper. I did not forget my wife at a truck stop; I just did not listen to her wishes. Apparently, I did not pay attention. 

Our family recalls it as The Wallpaper episode. The phrase brings immediate memories of extreme laughter and unforgettable misery, mostly at my expense.

Our family returned home from the best vacation of our lives. We reminisced about the fun, food, fellowship, and feelings of awe at the beautiful sights, peaceful relaxation, and exciting activities.

The biggest surprise awaited our arrival. The Wallpaper.

My wife had purchased paint, rolls of wallpaper, and decorative border for our family room. Several months passed without any start on the project. I always had a reason to wait until the next weekend. When there was no reason, I made up an excuse. Handyman stuff has never been a strong suit. At least, I knew not to use Great Stuff on this honey-do listing.

The lengthy delay left my wife discouraged and overwhelmed. My multi-talented maiden can outwork experienced work crews and out-decorate professional decorators; however, the possibility of finishing this project without any assistance only added to its postponement. I promised my participation after the vacation.

My surprise plan was the enlistment of my handyman friend to paint the room, install the wallpaper, match the molding, and add the top border while we were away on our family vacation. This would be one of the greatest gifts of all time. Surprised expressions, joyful gratitude, and special treatment awaited me.

The children were apprised of the amazing gift. Their excited energy had them jumping for joy in anticipation of mom’s astonishment and dad’s achievement. It would be the cherry on the top of this family’s best vacation sundae.

I asked the family to wait outside the door so I could check the house. Everything was safe and in its place. No house invasion by burglars or rats. Most importantly, the beautiful wallpaper and colorful border had been wonderfully placed without any mistakes or mess for me to clean up. What a husband! What a lucky wife to have such a thoughtful spouse!

Our smiling daughter held her mother’s hand as they waited in the entry. Her face beamed with the joy of a Christmas morning. The younger boys applauded as I announced the queen’s grand entrance into the family room. One shouted, “Surprise!” The other, “Ta dah!”

My wife was surprised! She was speechless! The shocked look on her face was priceless. Her gorgeous eyes became extremely large. Both hands covered her open mouth. Her knees trembled and weakened.

She leaned against the doorpost as she continued to gaze around the room at the wallpaper and border, carefully chosen to adorn her living area.

Her eyes began to fill with tears; her head began to slowly move back and forth. She would point at the wall and then place her hand back over her mouth. The kids continued to dance around the room. Her husband went from glee to puzzlement.

She pointed again at the wallpaper and then at the adjoining room. She repeated this gesture. Several times, she pointed at the wallpaper and then toward the other living area. The multitude of wallpaper rolls and border were no longer stacked in the garage. They were on her wall.

THE WALL IN THE WRONG ROOM!

Yep! I directed my handyman friend to redecorate the WRONG ROOM. Surprise!

My precious wife remained speechless! In fact, she did not speak again for two days. The shock silenced everything. No complaint. No correction. No criticism. She just went to bed and covered her crying eyes.

I stood there staring at the wallpaper. I felt like D. K. Adams when the police officer informed him the blankets in the back seat were not his wife and sister-in-law, to which D.K. replied, “Huh?”

Marriage requires commitment…so does insanity.

Someday, this too, would be a funny story; just not sure I would live long enough to see that someday. Somewhere, Beyonce is singing for all the Dreamgirls out there, “You should have listened.”

The wallpaper never came down, but neither did its place in family lore. Every subsequent vacation had its moments where the rest of the family retold the Wallpaper Story with all the exaggerated facial reenactments and laughter at dad’s expense. When I get a hearing aid, I will smile as they tell the Wallpaper Story.

Hearing is not the same thing as Listening. I am much better at hearing than I am at listening. Listening is a communication skill that enhances a relationship. It expresses value, respect, and interest in the other person. Listening is a tool of understanding the other person, who they are, what they like, what they want.

Too many times I hear the words but fail to grasp their importance. I tend to assume that I already know what the person is about to say. Most of the time, I “listen” while thinking about my reply. (I am listening to all of you out there who are shouting, “Amen” to this. Well, at least, I hear you.)

My wife once stated, “You were not even listening to me, were you?” I thought that was a strange way to start a conversation. Then I realized she had been talking for several minutes. When she asked me to repeat what she had said, all I could come up with was, “You were not even listening to me, were you?”

I am not a good listener, but I have not given up hope. Listening deliberately attempts to understand the message of the speaker. It requires effort, no interruption, and an affirming non-judgmental response.

Listening requires me to pay attention. That means I need to change my focus away from the television or computer. It means putting down the cell phone and stop texting. I can hear and process several things at the same time. However, that is not listening. Listening requires a choice of where I place my attention. I have to put away what divides my attention. (I said I am still learning.)

Can I share what is helping me become a better listener? Deciding I want to become a person who loves first and loves most. Preoccupation with self is a detriment to listening.

What drives listening? Love. Listening is primarily a spiritual connection based on love.

How you listen to others is indicative of how you listen to God. Uninterested? Pretense? Inattentive? Divided attention? Short attention span? More concerned with sharing your ideas, opinions, plan?

Love listens. Learn to listen to God first and most. Others will benefit. Listening to God’s Word is a great place to start. “Quick to listen; slow to speak” (#1 Textbook). Listen better to creation as birds sing, winds whisper, waves crash, and thunder roars to the glory of God’s love for you. Listen to others share their heart.

One of the best things you can do today is to listen to someone’s heart…until it is poured out completely.

“Being heard (listened to) is so close to being loved that most people cannot tell the difference.” (David Augsber)

Love listens first. Love listens most. That can be challenging. I am a very slow learner, but I do understand the goal.

Remember the most important thing in life. Love God and love others. Also, remember your wife. I offer two real-life suggestions.

1. Always double-check for visual and verbal confirmation of your wife’s presence before you drive off to another state or place a Dairy Queen order on her behalf.
2. If you do not pay attention to your wife’s wants and wishes, do not try to surprise her.

I offer this paraphrase of the prominent scripture invoked at many weddings for beautiful brides and their dumb and dumber men. Love is patient, love is kind…Love never leaves a loved one behind; love never gives the right gift in the wrong place…love never fails. (#1 Textbook)

Love listens First. Love listens Most.

Remember to keep dancing; it a vital part of the built-in Survival Guide. You will make it through this episode of life…someday.

How do you love more? Comprehend the infinite capacity of love. (next session)