“You missed her story.”
I knew the Voice too well, though it did not speak audibly. It was more like a gentle nudge, a silent whisper.
Lori and I were in Savannah, Georgia, and just before departing, we chanced upon a bookstore in the historic area of the city where we had spent three wonderful days between Christmas and New Year. The bookstore was modest but not hidden, nestled on a quiet lane away from the main thoroughfares. Stepping inside, rows of old and rare books and shelves lined with volumes of classic literature greeted me. I instantly felt at home, wishing we had discovered it earlier in our stay.
We complimented the proprietor on her store and spoke of our delight in her city.
“I love it too,” she said, “so much that years ago I decided to move here.”
“Where did you move from?” I asked.
“New Jersey.”
“Ahh, New Jersey,” I responded, “I can see why you loved Savannah so much. I lived in New Jersey for a couple of years.”
“Where?”
“Princeton,” I said. She didn’t comment and continued shelving books, so I told her that I had gone to Princeton to work on a graduate degree and had rented one room in a house in Trenton because the place we were supposed to live was awful. I had been naïve enough (before the days of the internet) to trust the brochure the apartment had sent me, mailing my three months’ rent as a security deposit, eventually having to represent myself in small claims court to retrieve my deposit before finally moving to student housing. It was an adventurous time of life, and I learned so much from that experience of living in New Jersey.
“Oh, by the way, your collection of books is amazing; I love this beautiful copy of Pride and Prejudice. Do you purchase books from customers? I have had to downsize my library since retiring. I inherited a library from a minister years ago, and so I have some gems.” I continued until Lori tapped me on the shoulder; we had to move on.
“Well,” she said on my way out the door, “I’m from further north in New Jersey, closer to New York.”
Closing the door behind me, watching my steps on the uneven sidewalk of cobblestones and cement, the Voice spoke.
“You missed her story.”
In my eagerness to share my story, I missed hers.
I never asked, “Why did you leave New Jersey? Was it the mystic of Savannah? Did you come here with the intent of opening a bookstore? Has it been a struggle?”
I’m sure she had a story; I just missed it.
Granted, she may not have wanted to share. She may have avoided conversing, occupied as she was with shelving. But I didn’t ask or give her the opportunity, so I’ll never know.
People are interesting, but we have to get out of ourselves and slow down to bring it out of them. The proverb says, “Intelligent people are always ready to learn. Their ears are open for knowledge?” (Proverbs 18:15). “Their ears are open…” The Lord gave us two ears and only one mouth.
Proverb 20:5 gives us advice for listening: “Though good advice lies deep within the heart, a person with understanding will draw it out.” Whether that “drawing out” comes from within one’s self—in which case we access wisdom by quietness and mediation, or it’s from found in another person—in which case we acquire wisdom by asking the right questions, one has to listen, either to one’s own heart or to another’s if we are to glean wisdom and understanding. In either case, we have to stop talking. As legendary football coach Lou Holtz said, “I never learn anything talking. I only learn things when I ask questions.”
Getting into the Uber on our way to the airport in Savannah, I sat back and relaxed now that our bags were in the car. Then, the driver gave us his name and smiled, glancing at us in his rearview mirror.
“So, are you originally from Savannah?” I asked.
Then I sat quietly, eager to know his story.
Well said, Dr.David!