Listening

“Good morning,” Mrs. Johnson said as I walked into her room at the assisted-living residence, carrying my guitar. I was visiting the facility as a therapeutic musician, working with the residents individually in their rooms.

“It’s a cloudy day today,” she said, looking out the window. Then, “How much did it rain yesterday?” Without waiting for a reply, she continued, “I got a letter from my niece this week. Would you like me to read it?”

Mrs. Johnson loved to talk. The other residents often complained about her constant chatter, and many wouldn’t sit with her during meals.

“How about a song?” I gently interrupted, glancing at my watch.

“Oh, but surely you want to hear the news from my niece?” she said, unfolding the letter. “She has lots of interesting things to say. You really must hear it.”

God, give me patience, I inwardly prayed, sitting down on a chair near her bed. Then it suddenly occurred to me: Mrs. Johnson was lonely! And right now, she needed a caring listener more than a musician. I felt myself soften as I let go of my own agenda and settled back into the chair with a smile.

After Mrs. Johnson read the letter and talked about what she had for breakfast that morning, she was finally ready for a sing-along.