It may be funny, but it's no joke

Miscommunication: It may be funny, but it's no joke

Have you ever noticed how often bad stuff comes from poor listening, making inaccurate assumptions and asking the wrong questions? And if you don't think so, remember the last time you were in a mess, and reflect on the quality of the communications. "She said...he said....you said...I said....what I meant was....you always...you never...." Or just as risky: silence and stonewalling.

I've worked hard to untangle and de-escalate many crisis situations over the years, and all of them have been aggravated by miscommunication: People half listening, not clarifying, taking action based on erroneous assumptions. Sometimes this leads to tragedy, other times to comedy and often just a mixture of both.

When is miscommunication funny? Usually, it's when we're watching on the sidelines, relieved that we aren't in the situation ourselves. Here is an award-winning joke about listening and asking questions -- and doing both poorly. This joke won a year-long contest involving two million Internet hits, 40,000 jokes and a scientific experiment on what people find funny:

"Two hunters are out in the woods when one collapses. He doesn't seem to be breathing and his eyes are glazed. The other guy whips out his phone and calls emergency services. He gasps, 'My friend is dead! What can I do?' The operator says, 'Calm down. I can help. First, make sure he's dead.' There is a silence, then a shot is heard. Back on the phone, the guy says, 'okay, now what?'"

As the bird lady flies away

Do you have any family members who drive you crazy? My Aunt Jean used to be the bane of my existence. Five years ago, if you had the time, I might have bored you with what I perceived as her "offenses" against others, herself and (especially) me. Ironically, I was most irritated by her mistrust and dislike of me. Yet, now I realize that her feelings toward me were in no small way influenced by mine toward her.

Near the end of Jean's life, I let go of the toxic resentments I'd been lugging around for so many years, and gained an entirely different perspective. I learned to love her for herself, and (wonder of wonders) she responded to me differently as well. What a relief and blessing! And this new perspective enabled me to see things in her life (and mine) that I would have been blind to otherwise. Here is my account of her last morning on earth:

My Aunt Jean died at her home on August 8th, at peace with herself, God and the world after a long illness and 24-hour round the clock care since January. She was 92 -- but keep it to yourself, please. (When we toasted Aunt Jean for her 90th birthday, she objected loudly, claiming that a woman never let on about such things.) Her dear friend Sandy held her right hand and Toni, her night caregiver, held her left.
People talk about "last words"....Well, Aunt Jean couldn't speak, but she did leave behind mementos of her journey. At 7 a.m. Sandy and Toni prayed the "our Father" outloud together and Jean, as if on cue, took her last breath as a tiny tear rolled down her cheek. Church bells chimed and the sound of cooing doves echoed down the fireplace as if celebrating Jean's release into Paradise after her many painful constrictions.

On the other side of town, a blackbird flew to the local nursing home and "danced up to the window" (sort of a one-two step, I'm told) where Jean's favorite caregiver and dear friend, Phyllis, was just finishing up a second shift. That was, said Phyllis, how she guessed that Jean was gone.

Like many of us, Jean was afraid of dying -- to the point that she wouldn't talk or even think about the possibility at all. (At 85 years old, she still didn't have a will, saying she would get around to it "one of these days"; finally, after decades of trying, her 89-year-old brother, George, talked her into it before passing away himself.)

As it all turned out, from what I can tell, there was nothing for my Aunt Jean to fear. God was with her all the time and now she knows that with a certainty and gladness that I can only imagine. Alas, I too need to remember that: "...neither death nor life, neither angels nor principalities, neither the present nor the future, neither the world above nor the world below will ever be able to separate us from the love of God, which is ours through Christ Jesus our Lord." (Rom 8:38-39)

So in honor of my aunt's departure, I ask you the same questions I am asking myself today: Where is God calling you to new life? What baggage do you need to leave behind in order to fly today? And -- oh yeah -- where did you stow your wings? That's important because you just may want to wear them today.

When it comes to love -- whether in our work or our relationships -- what is the danger in playing it safe?

I invite and welcome your comments.

__________________________________________

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Email me at kally@rejoyc.com or call me at 630-363-4570 for more details.

Top 10 Lists: One to Offend, the Other to Mend

I’m guessing that 80 percent of what we feel we need to forgive others for would disappear in a flash if we all knew how to communicate more clearly and effectively. Somebody starts a statement with “you always…” or “you never…” and, inevitably, there’s going to be trouble. Here are 10 more zingers that come trippingly off the tongue, leading to a quick and sure-fire derailment of any real connection, toppling it right into the Land of the Blame Game:

1. I can’t stand it when you….
2. You manipulated me….…betrayed my trust; ruined my life…(etc., etc.)
3. You make me furious when you….
4. A person like you…..
5. Once again, you’ve….
6. It’s always the same with you….
7. I can never count on you to….
8. You never listen to me….
9. Say you’re sorry….
10. You are a real jerk….creep; piece of work (etc., etc.)

When, if ever, have these common little sound bytes led to more peace and understanding? And what can we do differently to communicate more effectively and constructively?

One of wisest, most effective teachers on this subject is Marshall B. Rosenberg, Ph.D., who wrote a best-selling book on the subject entitled “Nonviolent Communication: A Language of Life.” Rosenberg has created a global organization to help people connect compassionately with both themselves and others through a language he calls “Nonviolent Communication (NVC),” and it is practiced with great success all over the world. Rosenberg characterizes NVC as a “language that strengthens our ability to inspire compassion from others and respond compassionately to others and ourselves….It awakens empathy and honesty, and is sometimes described as ‘the language of the heart.’” www.cnvc.org

Rosenberg suggests 10 concrete actions we can take to “contribute to Internal, Interpersonal and Organizational Peace” – and build our communication and relationship skills:

(1) Spend some time each day quietly reflecting on how we would like to relate to ourselves and others.
(2) Remember that all human beings have the same needs.
(3) Check our intention to see if we are as interested in others getting their needs met as our own.
(4) When asking someone to do something, check first to see if we are making a request or a demand.
(5) Instead of saying what we DON'T want someone to do, say what we DO want the person to do.
(6) Instead of saying what we want someone to BE, say what action we'd like the person to take that we hope will help the person be that way.
(7) Before agreeing or disagreeing with anyone's opinions, try to tune in to what the person is feeling and needing.
(8) Instead of saying "No," say what need of ours prevents us from saying "Yes."
(9) If we are feeling upset, think about what need of ours is not being met, and what we could do to meet it, instead of thinking about what's wrong with others or ourselves.
(10) Instead of praising someone who did something we like, express our gratitude by telling the person what need of ours that action met. www.cnvc.org

Duel to the Death

When I was a child, I was fascinated by a poem called "The Duel" by children's poet Eugene Field (1850-1895). It expressed in a light clever way something I knew to be true even then: where payback can lead. Also, how a relatively small grievance (nursed by a little negative nourishment) can snowball into a large grievance with damaging consequences for everyone unlucky enough to get caught in the crossfire. And unfortunately, what with passive aggressive behavior, scapegoating and projection -- those foibles we humans are all too liable to foist upon the world in our distress -- there's no statute of limitations on being caught in the crossfire.

"The Duel" stars two stuffed animals: a gingham dog and a calico cat, both stuck in the muck of needing to pay each other back for wrongs committed. Should you think that stuffed animals would naturally take themselves less seriously than real ones, think again. Perhaps the more we creatures are stuffed with, the less real and the more dangerous we are -- both to ourselves and others. The real cats and dogs I know get along much better than this....well, at least most of the time. Viva la difference!

Today I see this fight to the death from the perspective of the Chinese plate. But I have to admit that I've run the risk, on more than one occasion, of ending up in the sad (and totally unnecessary) plight of the animals depicted below. What about you? What's your perspective?

The Duel
by Eugene Field

THE GINGHAM dog and the calico cat
Side by side on the table sat;
'T was half-past twelve, and (what do you think!)
Nor one nor t' other had slept a wink!
The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate
Appeared to know as sure as fate
There was going to be a terrible spat.
(I wasn't there; I simply state
What was told to me by the Chinese plate!)

The gingham dog went "bow-wow-wow!"
And the calico cat replied "mee-ow!"
The air was littered, an hour or so,
With bits of gingham and calico,
While the old Dutch clock in the chimney-place
Up with its hands before its face,
For it always dreaded a family row!
(Never mind: I 'm only telling you
What the old Dutch clock declares is true!)

The Chinese plate looked very blue,
And wailed, "Oh, dear! what shall we do!"
But the gingham dog and the calico cat
Wallowed this way and tumbled that,
Employing every tooth and claw
In the awfullest way you ever saw—
And, oh! how the gingham and calico flew!
(Don't fancy I exaggerate—
I got my news from the Chinese plate!)

Next morning where the two had sat
They found no trace of dog or cat;
And some folks think unto this day
That burglars stole that pair away!
But the truth about the cat and pup
Is this: they ate each other up!
Now what do you really think of that!
(The old Dutch clock it told me so,
And that is how I came to know.)

Who Deserves a Break Today?

There is a poem by Robert Burns entitled "To a Louse" that reminds me of something enduring about the human condition. When admiring an elegantly dressed and confident young woman at church, Burns observes a louse crawling into her beautifully coiffured hairdo. He writes: "O, the gift the Gifties give us, to see ourselves as others see us." Frequently we humans get so focused on the offending actions of others and what we judge to be their irritating traits that we become blind to our own unkindness and insensitivity.

Ironically enough, we seem to act out most often, and be least aware of it, when: (1) the other person appears to have less power than we do, for whatever reason (children, students, minorities, employees we outrank, service providers, etc.); (2) when the other person doesn't confront us with our action, but forgives us (or doesn't) silently in the privacy of their hearts; and/or (3) when nobody's watching.

I find it much easier to give others a break when reflecting on the mercy that other people have shown, and continue to show, me -- whether or not I "deserve" it. These reflections remind me that life is a gift and fill me with a sense of grace and gratitude.

What about you? Where do your reflections take you? Where do you live in your everyday thoughts?

O Shame, Where is Your Sting?

"Children are made readers on the laps of their parents," notes literary artist and publisher Emilie Buchwald (Famous Literary Quotes, 2005). Educational experts agree: parents who read to their children help them become better readers and students. According to the Reading Foundation (2002): "Even parents who cannot read well for themselves can provide a good experience for their children by telling stories from their lives, from their imaginations or pictures in wordless books. It is best to read to your children early and often, but it is never too late to start in any language."

Reading and righting -- Since this is a blog on Forgiveness, what does reading have to do with forgiveness? Well, just as there is a correlation between illiterate parents and children with reading difficulties, there may also be one between unforgiving parents and unforgiving children. What do you think? My guess is yes.

I have learned how to forgive in part from my mother. Not only did she pardon my brothers, my sister and me (for our various fights and foibles over the years), she asked for our forgiveness as well. Then she changed her behavior as best she could. When I was a little girl (around five years old), she slapped me in the face. I don't remember it being hard, but I do remember that immediately afterwards she told me that she had done something wrong by hitting me on the face, asked my forgiveness and said she would never do it again. And she never did.

Ridiculous wisdom -- My mother's legacy to me was not in dollars but in sense. And even today, 30 years after her death, I still learn more about the process and precious gift of forgiveness by reflecting upon her example. For one thing, Mom had a gift for seeing the ridiculous in the ridicule in life. When I was growing up, our church published an annual account of the monetary contributions of all families in our parish in the Sunday bulletin, intending (perhaps) to reward the "good" donors and shame the "bad" ones. With four children (aged 10 and under)subsisting on Dad's salary as a proofreader, our family landed squarely in the lower range of the list. Instead of getting angry or ashamed, my mother considered the practice so nuts that she found it hilarious. In fact, we sat around talking and laughing about it for hours -- to the point that I could hardly wait for next year's list to be published.

"O death, where is your sting? O death, where is your victory?" St. Paul asks in 1 Corinthians (15:55), speaking on the impact of Christ's Resurrection from the dead. My mother's response to the annual donation list transformed a potentially painful situation into a deliciously subversive way to look at (and laugh at) the pretensions in life: O Shame, where is your sting?

What legacy of forgiveness have your parents given to you?.... What legacy are you leaving to your children?....

A Room with a View

The imagination is an amazing vehicle. I call mine a flying carpet, and it takes me all over the world to different times and places. Today, we go to Jesus Christ, an hour before his last meal with his friends just outside the Old City of Jerusalem in what is called the "Upper Room."

What was he thinking? Feeling? Imagining? I don't know about you, but if I was going to undergo an excruciating execution tomorrow, I wouldn't feel much like having a meal with friends tonight -- especially if I knew that one of those "close" friends of mine was going to betray me, and the rest would pretend they didn't know me once I got captured. And if I did share a meal with my so-called pals the night before my death, you can bet they'd get an earful! You wouldn't see me washing their feet, or offering myself up for their benefit.

This depth of forgiveness goes far beyond where my imagination has ever taken me. Even now. Sometimes I think it is easier to forgive one's foes than one's friends....Foes can steal many things from us, but they can't steal our trust -- because we never trusted them in the first place.

It seems that Jesus had no illusions. He trusted his friends to be human; but he didn't count on them to save him or look to them for approval. In that, forgiveness became his pre-emptive strike of complete acceptance and love. Christ forgave his friends in advance of what he knew they were going to do. And in his unconditional decision to forgive, Christ showed his utter freedom and transformed the last meager meal of a "dead man walking" into the eternal banquet of the Lord's Supper.

Amazing grace. I can't forgive that way, to that absolute extent. But I can, at least, imagine myself as one of the disciples in that Upper Room -- maybe Peter, who protests when Christ goes to wash his feet....Maybe I can be Peter, and just let Christ wash my feet. And in this experience of being forgiven, perhaps I will discover that I too can forgive with a pure and reckless heart.