Last week we probably made close to one hundred phone calls, informing businesses, organizations, and others of my father’s recent death. Most of these were for the purpose of changing names on the accounts, closing the accounts, or merely updating the necessary information on the accounts. We dotted the i and crossed the t on every call to make sure that everything was done legally, ethically, and in the way my father and mother had predetermined. My sister Marcia had created a spreadsheet with all of the necessary information, and that was a huge help in completing this seemingly monumental task in a comparatively short time.
Though it will sound like an overdramatization of truth, as we called the various offices, it was overwhelming to hear nearly every single person on the other end of the phone start by saying, “Before I provide your answer, let me say that I’m sorry for your loss.” Some worded it with, “Please know first of all that you have our sympathies” or other such wording. We received handwritten cards of condolence from our local pharmacy, some of Dad’s doctors, and the hospice providers, each conveying their sympathies and containing a personalized comment about Dad. These organizations and individuals are among the busiest around, yet they took that single moment to honor an individual and acknowledge a loss. We were in a hurry; they were in a hurry, but it spoke volumes that they took that “nth” of a minute to make the comment. Whether it was done for “PR” reasons or because of thoughtfulness, it still spoke volumes.
In fact, we found ourselves unintentionally noting the absence of the comment when it was missing from the call. And in our very human hearts, it was easy to think, “I’ll do business with this pharmacy and not that one” or “I’d rather keep my money at this bank than that one,” simply based on the little touch of courtesy that was present in the five little words: “I’m sorry for your loss,” which, by the way, take less than two seconds to say! And may I say with a heart full of the highest amount of love I can offer: this is especially necessary for faith-based organizations to implement—no, let me rephrase that: it’s imperative—because your secular counterparts are doing it well and doing it right.
As I’ve thought about this the last few days, I have been reminded of the need to take those few extra seconds to sincerely demonstrate concern, joy, sorrow, gratitude, or whatever the speaker’s words call for as I truly listen to others. I say “truly listen,” because though we often hear words, we are often guilty of not listening to those words. Because we want to be like Christ, we should also want to follow His example, given to us through the record of His childhood visit to the church leaders: “After three days they found him in the temple courts, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions” (Luke 2:46, NIV). By the way, the order in which this was done—listening and then asking—is a ginormous lesson in itself!
It’s not rocket science or some earth-shattering breakthrough in the world of blogging, I know. But it’s a life lesson. And it matters.
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Photo credit: vgstudio, via Shutterstock.com
