'Teach Me to Stop and Listen . . . '

"And Ruth the Moabitess said unto Naomi,

Let me now go to the field,

and glean ears of corn after him

In whose sight I shall find grace.

And she said unto her, Go, my daughter."

Ruth 2:2  KJV






Lake,
Quaker Haven Camp
Syracuse, Indiana

We sang the song, 'Teach Me to Stop and Listen,' at the USFW  (United Society of Friends Women) Fall Retreat earlier this month up at Quaker Haven Camp. This isn't a new song for me as I've sang this song many times before, but I never really sat down and looked at the words before and how many times have we all done this - sang a song, recited a poem, a prayer, a scripture or ____________, you fill in the blank, and not thought about the words we were saying or hearing? The last few weeks though, as I've taken the time to stop and not only listen to the words, but to really think about them, I can see how these words really seem to sum up so much of what this year has been for me . . .

Teach me to stop and listen,

Teach me to center down,

Teach me the use of silence,

Teach me where peace is found.

Teach me to hear your calling,

Teach me to search your word,

Teach me to hear in silence,

Things I have never heard.

Teach me to be collected,

Teach me to be in tune,

Teach me to be directed,

Silence will end too soon.

Then when it's time for moving,

Grant it that I may bring,

To every day and every moment,

Peace from a silent spring. *

Listening, it's something we do all day, everyday. Who or what do you spend your time listening to? Your family - spouse, children, parents, F/friends, neighbors, co-workers, others? How about the TV or radio - the news, shows, talk shows, music?

As Quakers, we spend time in silence, silent worship, in 'expectant waiting,' listening for and to the voice of God or the Spirit. Listening for and to 'that still small voice' that is inside each of us.



Howth, Ireland

Personally, over the years I have found this difficult - coming from a different faith background where there really wasn't any silence in worship, not knowing what to listen for, distractions of noises outside of the Meetinghouse and for many years the distraction of just being a mom. And I don't mean this in a bad way, I mean caring for my children, having to keep an eye on anywhere from one to four of them during Meeting for worship. And occasionally missing worship because I was sitting with my children and maybe other children in the nursery or helping with/leading Children's Church.

Well, I don't have the distraction of keeping track of my children any more, they're 17-26 years old now. I'm not distracted by the babbling of the little ones that we now have in Meeting for worship, including my young granddaughter . . . their babbling brings a smile to my face and some how gives me something to focus on . . . our Young Friends and how we need to love and nurture them and teach them about our Quaker faith and beliefs and about God. The other noises . . . I've learned how to tune that all out.

Fern Garden at
Blarney Castle
Ireland

There have been a few times in the past when I heard voices in my head, felt a good swift kick or knock on the side of my head. I didn't think of it as God's voice at the time - maybe that was part of God's plan for me. Maybe God knew I wasn't ready to hear Him right then, at those times in my life, but if I thought it was someone else from my life that I would listen, I'd be a better listener. I thought the voices I was hearing were my grandparents or my mom or dad. Voices telling me to go here or there, voices telling me to go and visit someone, voices telling me not to go somewhere, voices directing me a different way . . . both physically and spiritually. So many times I would set out to go somewhere, usually shopping, and instead of going the way I normally went I would end up going a totally different way, or start out and realize that I had forgotten something and turned back to get it. Now, not every time, but more times than I can count, I would hear about or see an accident or other trouble that happened. I wasn't there, I wasn't involved . . . somehow I missed it.

I wonder now, was that the voice of God speaking to me back on December 14, 1986 nudging me to go up to South Bend to see my grandpa? My grandpa had had a stroke a couple of weeks earlier, we drove up to South Bend and saw my grandparents. Several hours later, as I walked in the front door at home, the phone was ringing, it was my dad, calling to tell me that grandpa had died. When? About two hours after we left.



Waterfall,
Fern Garden at
Blarney Castle
Ireland

Friday, April 19, 1996, I was at home with my four children, ages 6 weeks to 9 years, when severe weather came through our area. I remember my TV show being interrupted by the weather reports . . . and they kept talking about the weather. I remember just wanting them to get off already and get back to my show! Then it happened, that swift kick, that hard slap to the side of my head! I got up, walked down the hallway, picked up my sleeping 6 week old daughter out of the cradle, called to my other three children, who were watching TV and playing in the family room, and told them to come and sit in the hallway, with my free hand I grabbed a heavy sleeping bag off one of the beds in the other room and threw it over them. And before I could take another step, with my baby in one arm and the cordless phone in the other it hit! Nearly seventeen and a half years later I can still hear it and feel it . . . the glass of the bedroom windows breaking. Broken windows, gutters ripped off one side of the house and hail damage to the roof, the swing set in the back yard - picked-up and flipped 3 1/2 times to the other side of the yard . . . nothing that couldn't be fixed. We were lucky, we were all safe, we were blessed!



Fern Garden at
Blarney Castle,
Ireland

More recently, October 6, 2010, going over to the local nursing home during my long lunch break between religious education classes - to check-in on my husbands' great-aunt. As I sat on the floor, next to her bed, she reached out to grab my hand and held onto it with all the strength she had. When it came time for me to leave and go back for my afternoon classes she wouldn't let go of my hand, she wanted me to stay. I told her I'd be back in an hour and a half, after my classes were over. She finally let me go. About 45 minutes later I got a call from the nursing home . . .telling me she had died. Thinking back, why wouldn't she let go of my hand? Was she trying to tell me something? Or did she know something, did she know this was the end and she didn't want to be alone? Had I known . . . I would have stayed with her.

In these three situations, I thought I was hearing my grandpa calling me to come and visit with him one last time. I thought I heard my mom telling me to gather my children together to keep them safe from the tornado. And I thought I heard my husbands' great-aunt's voice encouraging me to go and visit her that day. Now I wonder, was 'that still small voice' speaking to me on these three occasions actually the voice of God speaking to me? I listened and I responded to that voice. I didn't think of it being God's voice speaking to me then . . . until now.



Giants Causeway,
Northern Ireland

The story of Samuel keeps playing in my head . . . and the words Samuel spoke 'Speak Lord, for your servant is listening.' Like Samuel, as a servant of God, I have had to learn to listen for and to that still small voice, the voice of God giving me direction.

Do you take time to listen? To really listen? To listen to that still small voice, speaking to you? To listen to the voice of God? What is God saying to you? What is it that God wants you to do - to help grow His kingdom?

This year, I've learned to really stop and listen, I've found it easier to center down, I've learned the use of silence and I've learned where peace can  be found. I've heard the 'still small voice of God' calling to me, and I've found myself recalling scriptures or looking for scriptures to fit a situation and I've heard so many new things. I'm learning to be collected and to get in tune and I've been directed . . . I'm not ready for the silence to end. I'm still working on the last part.

I challenge each of you reading this, to spend time in the silence this next week . . . spend time really listening to and for that 'still small voice.'

* I do want to give credit here to Ken Medema, who wrote the words and the music for "Teach Me to Stop and Listen."