Yesterday morning, Winnie had made herself comfortable in the corner of a chair in a sunbeam on my fleece robe. She and I had been sitting there together. When I got up, I squirmed out of the robe and left it behind for her.
"In the external scheme of things, shining moments are as brief as the twinkling of an eye, yet such twinklings are what eternity is made of -- moments when we human beings can say 'I love you,' 'I'm proud of you,' 'I'm grateful for you.' That's what eternity is made of: invisible, imperishable good stuff."
Maggie hopped onto the chair to share the sunbeam with Winnie, but Maggie changed her mind and hopped back down.
Winnie left her corner and stretched out, leaving no room in case Maggie came back.
"Listening is a very active awareness of the coming together of at least two lives. Listening, as far as I'm concerned, is certainly a prerequisite of love. One of the most essential ways of saying 'I love you' is being a receptive listener,"
A few minutes later, Winnie jumped from the chair to the sofa (a distance of about 8 inches). Maggie seized the opportunity to claim the sunbeam and take a bath.
And Winnie snuggled down to take a nap in her fleece bed wrapped in her blue blanket.
Me: True listening seems to be a dying art. I find that many people I talk with are processing the conversation and formulating a response, instead of really listening to what is said. I blame myself for this, too, and I think this is why there are times when I tend to forget things ... people's names especially. (I used to be good at remembering names, but now I really suck at it.) It's difficult to remember stuff if we are preoccupied with something else and we never really HEARD it in the first place. I'm working on this, and I am trying to be better about giving people my undivided attention.
During the month of November, I plan to share wisdom from Mr. Rogers with you each day (from the book "The World According to Mr. Rogers") ... Mr. Rogers's words accompanied by everyday images from life here at Hartwood Manor ... this place that I am blessed to call HOME.