Thanks for Listening

Last week as I was serving lunches at the newly renovated library a man named Daniel sat down in one of the comfy chairs pictured above and let out a loud sigh. I asked if he would like a lunch and he said, "Yes." I asked how it was going and he said, "Pretty f*%kin' bad." I told him I was sorry to hear that and would he like to talk about it.

For about 25 minutes Daniel told me his story. I asked questions here and there but mostly sat back and listened, occasionally welcoming other folks to the library and serving them lunch. I began to notice that a recurring theme in Daniel's story was his frustration at not being listened to and not being understood. He spoke about family members and friends he couldn't communicate with, case workers who seemed to take notes but disregarded or forgot his preferences in the long run, public servants like police who couldn't or wouldn't hear him, and other people taking shelter outside who were too selfish or too in-their-own-world to hear him.

I didn't point out this observation to him. I just let him talk. He started to wrap up and said he was meeting a friend on the other side of the library. I told him it was nice to talk to him and I hoped he had a better day. He took about five steps away from the table where we had been sitting then he stopped, turned, looked me in the eye and said, "Hey, thanks for *listening*," with great emphasis on the word "listening." I nodded and said you're welcome.

As much as the people we serve need a lunch, what they *really* need is someone to listen, someone to stop and hear who they are deep down beyond the problems of hunger, mental illness, addiction, broken relationships, and material deprivation.

PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO ME!

It's something we all need, not just people taking shelter outside. At AfterHours we're blessed to be in the position to listen when it's needed, to serve a lunch when there's hunger, and to provide other necessities as a sign of love for all of God's children.