Prayer Prompt

Prayer Prompt 2

Is there a difference between asking God for what we want and telling God what we want? Perhaps.

If we have absolute faith, we know if we ask, God answers.

If we are tied to this human reality, we likely figure God's answer will be yes or no.

If we have typical Human Patience Levels (HPL), we wait for the answer in a drumming-our-fingers-on-the-table sort of way.

On the other hand, when we tell God what we want, our job's done. We only have to be willing to accept what God returns to us. (OK, one qualification: we want to know clearly what we want when we express it to God.)

'Least, that's how I see it. And that's what led me to this Prayer Prompt...

I respect you, God.
I am open and receptive
to my wants being fulfilled.

Having said that affirmation a number of times has changed how I pray. I tell God what I want and then get out of the way. I open my heart to receive and accept what God manifests for me.

It's really more exciting.

Love and blessings,

Listen For or Listen To?

Last week I led a teleseminar about Listening Skills for Managers. About 30 minutes before we went "on the air" the listening for vs listening to distinction skipped across my mind.

Yes, skipped, with an "I'm not skipping that fast, but if you want to catch me you can't just sit there!" attitude.

So I didn't sit there, mentally. I let my mind run after the thought and distinguish between

• Listening for: anticipating a sound, a message, a song, a signal; waiting attentively that you might hear something and then listen to it.

and

• Listening to: actively applying one's receptive mind to what is being heard at that instant.

I/O/W, what you listen for is not audible. Yet. You anticipate. You wait. You look forward to with your ears. What you listen to is already producing sound that you can hear, appreciate, and value.

So?

For years I've been struggling to hear God. I've read volumes. I've sat quietly. I've worked hard to achieve stillness of mind. I've asked in my prayers to hear God, to receive a signal that tells me I am at least heading in the right direction.

This morning I wrote follow-up notes about that teleseminar. I jotted "listen to/listen for" on the folder.

And right then I knew. I need to listen to, not listen for, God.

When I listen for, I put my evaluating mind in the way. That's the thinking me that asks and answers:
Might that be God talking? Would God say or sound or seem like that? And by the time I'm through thinking, the listening has passed.

From the listen to POV, I am sure that what I hear--however I hear it--is God speaking. That is birds and wind and children on playgrounds. It's a waterfall, a rainfall, a snowfall.  It's cars and horns and trucks' back-up beeps. It's a lovers' argument. It's prayers sung or whispered. It's the tired telemarketer's voice. It's even the telephone wringing our emotions, and our computers signaling we have mail.

Today the world sounds pretty perfect.

Photo source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/joka2000/256192119

Am I Listening? Really?

In a few days I'll begin training for Prayer Chaplaincy at Unity Church of the Hills.

A tad nervous. A lot excited.

I picked up the Training Manual by Lei Lanni Burt and Diane Williams. It's hefty and it captured my attention at once. Interesting that the first page I randomly flipped it open to says this:

--Kinds of Listening--
Let's look at the definitions of four kinds of listening:

1. Argumentative listening: When listening, the listener formulates an argument while another is sharing and often interrupts in order to make their point.
2. Antagonistic listening: When listening, the listener is resistant and opposes what is being shared.
3. Autobiographical listening: When listening, an emotion with regards to a personal memory is triggered by what is being shared. It is thoughts of self, one's own concerns and stories filling their head as another is sharing.
4. Empathic listening: When listening, the listener consciously stays focused in their heart space on what is being shared.

I read the four types of listening. In rapid succession I recalled recent instances when I've been each type.

More to the point, I realized my overwhelming tendency to listen autobiographically. Not so often--but occasionally--antagonistically. With some frequency argumentatively.

Maybe my empathic listening is not least on my list, but I surely need to increase that listening type.

So, I've made a little card. Wallet-sized. All it says is

• Argumentative?

• Antagonistic?

• Autobiographical?

• Empathic!

I am ready to be reminded.

Not about Sex at All

Caveat lector. I am a parent who wasn't. And about to recommend a movie all about parenting.

The movie Juno has all sorts of different meanings for and effects on me. All of them good, strong, lasting. When my sister Robin and I left the theater this afternoon, I could have turned and gone right back inside for a second viewing. I would have had anyone suggested it.

It's a movie for parents. It's a movie for teens. A movie for tweens. A movie for grandparents. A movie for friends of who are friends of people who know someone who's at sometime been pregnant.

Yeah, that's everybody. Here's the trailer.

The film has meaning and message, merriment and (great) music (from Buddy Holly, the Kinks, the Velvet Underground...and the Moldy Peaches).

RSVP? Never "Regrets"

Whenever I invite God to be with me for anything, I never receive an RSVP with "regretfully, I cannot attend..."

I got into my Too Competitive Mode playing racquetball the other day. Yeah, for me "too competitive" is when I'm more intent on yelling at myself for a bad shot than on enjoying the chance to play the game. I missed a shot and I yelled at me.

So then I botched another shot. I really yelled.

And the little voice in my head whispered the reminder not to do that. I have a practiced how-to-get-out-of-the-too-competitive-mindset method. It works. I applied it right then.

I smile. I quietly say my fave affirmation: God is within me. God is around me. Everything is of God. I remind myself God is in the racquetball box with us.

Next morning I thought about that game, a game that ended well whether I won or not. The combo of smiling and inviting God to the game returned me to my Enjoy the Game Mode. Much better than the TCM.

I wrote about that in my morning pages. I realized I can always invite God to join me, to be with me no matter what I am doing. Seemed a bit ironic at first, since I've finally come to know that God is always with me (and with me all ways).

But, no, it is different when I consciously ask God to join me. First of all (see the title), God never says, "No, I can't make it today." Second, it makes me actively aware that I have God's company. Third, that makes whatever is happening a heck of a lot more pleasant (or secure or comforting or happy or simply better).

I remember my disappointment 50+ years ago whenever I knocked on next-door-neighbor Mark's door and he'd tell me he couldn't come out and play.

It's so nice that God never says that.

When Any Listening Matters

The problem I was having doesn't matter. The experience I had as I reached out to friends for their affectionate (h)EAR(ing)S does matter. Such a great deal.

First I called my mother. Yes, you can be 58 and think you have lived through virtually every calamity and still take comfort in a call home to Mom.

Now, my mom has Alzheimer's. She is still at Level One and that is the beauty. Her sense of humor has certainly not deserted her. She listens and all the while she's listening, she'll say, "Slow down. I don't have a fast memory anymore." And she'll laugh at herself.

In this conversation, she'd jump in every time I wordlessly worked to hold back tears. She would say, "That's OK. Take your time. Gives me time to remember what you've been saying."

And after those and similar comments, she would laugh. When we finished, she eased back into her full Mother Mode with every sensibility/sensitivity she's always had. "Are you OK now? I mean are you really OK? Because we can talk as long as you want to."

Then she'd laugh and say, "Or you can call me back this afternoon--it is still morning, isn't it?--and take me through this whole conversation right from the start. I won't mind. I won't be bored. I won't remember it anyway."

Maybe it was better even not to hear her advice. Just to hear her voice and laughter. 

Then I played racquetball with Alan. Between games we took a break and I told Alan what I was experiencing. I felt Alan's patience as I knew he was eager to jump in and share his that-happened-to-me experience. I appreciated that he held himself back.

I didn't even try to s t r e t c h my recount and prevent Alan's talking. I gave him the short version.

Then I sat back and listened as he shared his comparable story and what he had learned from them. I knew his experience might be meaningful. I knew that sometime in the future, when my emotions eased up and my intellect re-entered the scene, I can appreciate his experiences.

But at that moment, two things mattered more. One thing was Alan gave me the chance to express again my emotions. And the more they are spoken, the less painful they are. The other thing was that listening to Alan took my mind elsewhere. Elsewhere, at that time, was a good place to go.

Listening comes in many forms. Almost all of it has good.