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Pardon the Interruption

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Pardon the Interruption

When my wife and I first moved up north we were aware there would be cultural differences that both the people we work with and we would need to get used to. For instance, down south we say we’re going to put something “in the hopper,” which means we’ll think about it. Up north, however, it has something to do with a commode. So, that was a phrase I stopped using. Another difference was people interrupting each other. It didn’t take long to notice, especially at meetings, that people would start talking before another person was finished. When this happened the person interrupted either returned the favor or waited for the interruptee to stop before they started up again. In the south, we might fake it but we at least acted like we were listening and waited for the person to finish before we began to talk.

I remember bringing this up at a meeting where people were talking all over each other. I stated the difference and perhaps if we waited, and listened until the other was finished, perhaps our meetings would be more productive and not last as long. It didn’t go over well. No one told me to get over it but the behavior never stopped and I never brought up the subject again.

This was about 10 years ago and I’ve noticed rudeness isn’t going anywhere. In fact, rudeness seems to be expanding at an incredible rate. From radio to tv, social media, family, friends, co-workers, people at grocery stores, arguing and not listening, folks stubbornly stating their point of view, driving haphazardly, everyone in a hurry and not caring who they offend to get their lists of to-do’s done. Even our president cusses, calls people names, makes fun and insults others. Rudeness is winning.

So, how do we stop rudeness from continuing to be the norm? My only answer is kindness, patience, being at peace and giving peace. It’s not about arguing a point but being what you hope others will become.

blessings,
@BrianLoging (Twitter)
thewannabesaint.com

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Words

Words

Today I had the privilege and duty to be a part of the memorial service for my father. It’s been surreal the last few days. So many errands to run, items to check off on a list, places to go, people to see. There’s been a sense of urgency, a nervous energy, a controlled chaos, riding a wave of sorrow and speed.  Because of the hectic pace of the last several days, I stood on the stage behind the pulpit at the service this afternoon with no notes, and no structure to the stories and experiences I wanted to share.

Words, they’ve flooded my mind and soul since Dad passed. Words from family and friends who care and are sorry for our loss. Words that go into an obituary, on a card for flowers, in a service program and used in phone calls, emails, and texts. So many words used to describe the love a family has for one who is, was, the central fixed, point.

Now, standing behind the pulpit at the memorial service today, I had no notes, no words written, no solid ideas, memories swarming in my head but none coming in for a landing. How do you choose the right words to convey the meaning of a life which impacted many people?  In the pantheon of phrases, how do you pick out those which will express the purpose of a life lived well?

A deep breath, a small prayer, and … share my heart, open my lips, loosen my tongue and let the words come. No, they will not be adequate. No, they will not be perfect. Yes, there will be second-guessing and memories that are forgotten to be shared.

Words. They are not, and cannot contain the heart’s cry of longing and loneliness or succinctly express the fondness, the love, the good of being apart from a person you love. This is okay. Living, being, existing, is more than words, deeper than condolences, greater than expressions of sympathy and sadness.

Living should be beyond our ability to communicate it easily if it is done well.

blessings,
@BrianLoging (Twitter)
thewannabesaint.com

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