A Morning's Story Thought

It all started out innocently enough.  Just another usual morning, like every other morning.  Only this morning my sister was with me.

I usually go for coffee a couple mornings a week at our city's health-food store.  Up until 8 am they have all drinks half-off, and I like to take advantage of that.  I only wish I hadn't gone this morning.

It happened on the way there.  On the way there!  I can't bear to think of it, but I muse, for I know getting it all out will help.  Somehow.

We were on our way to the store.  It was around 7.30 when we left.  I was driving and my sister was in the passengers seat.

I was at the intersection of Juniper and 5th.  This was always the one hard intersection to cross, as it had three streets connected to it - at least, in the way I was going.

I myself was on a two way street.  In order to reach my next point, I had to cross another two-way street, immediately turn left to cross a one-way street and then continue on my way.

I don't know why it happened...how it happened.  I looked everywhere.  It was clear at all intersections.  But as I was crossing the first street, this truck to my right came speeding up out of nowhere!  And when I looked ahead to the one-way street, a car was about to pass right in front of me!

Time seemed to slow  down.  I didn't know what to do.  Should I speed up to avoid the speeding truck to save my sisters life and risk killing the people in the car in front of me?  Or should I slam the breaks to save those in front of me and kill my sister.  I didn't know what to do.  I didn't know what to do!!!


But my sister did.  "Hit the breaks!" she screamed.  And so I did.  I didn't even pause to think about it.  The truck hit us.  Hard.

The next thing I know, I'm waking up.  Not even a bruise on me.  But my sister - oh God! my sister - I shudder every time I remember what I saw.  You couldn't even recognize her.  How I regret listening to her.

She meant well; she meant to save the lives of the vehicle in front of us.  She was always watching out for others rather than herself.  But now she's dead, and it's all my fault.

...


It had been months since the accident.  The funeral had come and gone.  Now she was just a mere memory away from existence.

I was just walking out of a grocery store, when a strange lady stopped me.

"Excuse me?" she said, hesitantly.
"Yes?" I replied.
"Are...are you the young man who's sister died in a car crash a few months back?  The crash at the Juniper and 5th intersection?"
"I am."
"Oh.  I...I wanted to tell you, well, thank you.  I don't know what made you decide to stop instead of running into the car ahead of you...but that decision...it...it save the lives of my children and I.  We were in the vehicle in front of you."

I said nothing.  I just stood there, amazed at the possibilities of actually meeting a person who was almost involved in the accident.  It was so unlikely of happening, yet it was.

"Well, anyways...  I'm sorry about your loss.  I truly am.  I just wanted to thank you for giving my children a second chance to live."  And with that, she left.


My sister is still dead.  Nothing can change that.  But knowing that she gave up her one life for the lives of multiple people somehow lessens the pain.  And with time, I know that the healing process will help soothe the wounds of hurt as well.


(21.6.2011)

Listen

I've been doing a lot of reading lately.  Both fiction, and non.  Books by classic, wise authors like A.W. Tozer, Elisabeth Elliot, C.S. Lewis, C.H. Spurgeon, E.M Bounds.  The knowledge bug has gone and bit me.

I usually read three or so books at a time.  And no, I have no trouble keeping them apart.  One that I recently started (and am almost finished with) is titled The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Teens by Sean Covey.  It's interesting enough, I suppose, but I have a better formula than the one he's providing (although that's not to say that his formula is potentially workable).  I'm reading this book because, the way I see it, almost anything I read can give me insight into something.  Also, my uncle gave me the book for my high school graduation, and I figure I should read it because he gave it to me.  Besides, it's a book.  Enough said.

In reading the section about Habit 5 - "Seek first to understand, than to be understood" - he made mention of some really good points.  Things that I knew, but things he was able to put into words pretty decently.  Covey stated that "the deepest need of the human heart is to be understood."  He then launches into ways on how most people typically listen to others (aka, Five Poor Listening Styles), and then gives advice on how to better listen.   In this section though, he included two poems that I'd like to share with you, because both of them describe how I have felt far too often a lot of times during my life.

The first (and more significant one):

PLEASE LISTEN

When I ask you to listen to me

and you start giving me advice,

you have not done what I asked.

When I ask you to listen to me

and you begin to tell me why

I shouldn't feel that way,

you are trampling on my feelings.

When I ask you to listen to me

and you feel you have to do something 

to solve my problem,

you have failed me,

strange as it may seem.

Listen!  All I ask is that you listen.

Don't talk or do - just hear me.

The second (and slightly less significant, but significant nonetheless):

PLEASE...HEAR WHAT I'M NOT SAYING

Don't be fooled by me.  Don't be fooled by the mask I wear.  For I wear a mask, I wear a thousand masks, masks that I'm afraid to take off, and none of them is me.  Pretending is an art that is second nature with me.

...I give the impression that I'm secure, that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well as without; that confidence is my name and coolness is my game; that the waters are calm and that I'm in command and I need no one.  But don't believe it; please don't.

I Idly chatter with you in the suave tones of surface talk.  I tell you everything that's really nothing, nothing of what's crying within me.  So when I'm going through my routine, don't be fooled by what I'm saying.  Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying; what I'd like to be able to say; what, for survival, I need to say but I can't say.  I dislike the hiding.  Honestly I do.  I dislike the superficial phony games I'm playing.
I'd really like to be genuine, spontaneous, and me; but you have to help me.  You have to help me by holding out your hand, even when that's the last thing I seem to want or need.  Each time you are kind and gentle and encouraging, each time you try to understand because you really care, my heart begins to grow wings.  Very small wings.  Very feeble wings.  But wings. With your sensitivity and sympathy and your power of understanding, I can make it.  You can breathe life into me.  It will not be easy for you.  A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.  But love is stronger than strong walls, and therein lies my hope.  Please try to beat down those walls with firm hands, but with gentle hands, for a child is very sensitive, and I am a child.
Who am I, you may wonder.  For I am every man, every woman, every child...every human you meet.


I'd like to consider myself a good listener.  However, it seems as if I have trouble getting people to listen to me...both the words I speak and the words I'm saying without speaking them.  I can't tell you the countless times where people have been talking to me, or asked me a question, and when I begin to respond to them, they turn around and begin to speak to someone else.  It's been excruciatingly frustrating for me, but its happened so often, I've grown used to it.

And it's not only being ignored upon responding to someone.  It's also been when I'm talking to someone, I'm not done with my sentence or string of thoughts, and they interrupt me.  Maybe they think I'm done.  Or maybe they feel the need to say what they have to say before they forget it.  But this is also something that's happened all too often to me.  But, it's something that I'm used to.

I've gone back and fourth on the idea if I should speak up about my treatment or not.  It can be taken to be disrespectful.  And sometimes if I think about it too much, I let it begin to control my thoughts.  I get frustrated that people who are friends and family, say they love and respect me but don't show it by how they treat me.  Actions speak louder than words and I know the very essence of that truth.

However, despite all the 'should I or should I not speak up about this?' I don't think it's that big of a deal.  There are bigger thing in my life that need effort and time than this situation.

Despite all of that rambling though, please.  Listen.  Not only to me, but to everyone around you.

For their sake.