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Request EntryMy wife Rosy Manokaran had severe abdominal pain and profuse bleeding. The scan shows two large fibroids in her uterus. She has been advised to undergo immediate surgery to remove her uterus. The surgery is scheduled at 7.30 A.M. on 30th May 2006. Please pray for the doctors to do the right thing. Also pray for the financial needs estimated to be about Rs. 25000 to Rs. 30000.
From: Rev. Dr. J.N. ManokaAdd Request |
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 Wednesday, 10 March 2010 |
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Learning to listen
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Written by Shirley Ferguson
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Thursday, 17 March 2005
Learning to Listen We all know what it's like to get that phone call in the middle of the night. This night was no different.
Jerking up to the ringing summons, I focused on the red, illuminated
numbers of my clock. Midnight. Panicky thoughts filled my sleep-dazed
mind as I grabbed the receiver.
"Hello?" My heart pounded, I gripped the phone tighter and eyed my husband, who was now turning to face my side of the bed.
"Mama?" The voice answered. I could hardly hear the whisper over the static. But my thoughts immediately went to my daughter.
When the desperate sound of a young crying voice became clear on the line, I grabbed for my husband and squeezed his wrist.
"Mama, I know it's late. But don't... don't say anything until I
finish. And before you ask, yes I've been drinking. I nearly ran off
the road a few miles back and..."
I drew in a sharp, shallow
breath, released my husband and pressed my hand against my forehead.
Sleep still fogged my mind, and I attempted to fight back the panic.
Something wasn't right.
"...And I got so scared. All I could
think of was how it would hurt you if a policeman came to your door and
said I'd been killed. I want... to come home. I know running away was
wrong. I know you've been worried sick. I should have called you days
ago but I was afraid... afraid..."
Sobs of deep-felt emotion
flowed from the receiver and poured into my heart. Immediately I
pictured my daughter's face in my mind, and my fogged senses seemed to
clear, "I think ---"
"No! Please let me finish! Please!" She
pleaded, not so much in anger, but in desperation. I paused and tried
to think what to say. Before I could go on, she continued. "I'm
pregnant, Mama. I know I shouldn't be drinking now...especially now,
but I'm scared, Mama. So scared!"
The voice broke again, and
I bit into my lip, feeling my own eyes fill with moisture. I looked up
at my husband, who sat silently mouthing, "Who is it?"
I
shook my head and when I didn't answer, he jumped up and left the room,
returning seconds later with a portable phone held to his ear. She must
have heard the click in the line because she asked, "Are you still
there? Please don't hang up on me! I need you. I feel so alone."
I clutched the phone and stared at my husband, seeking guidance. "I'm here, I wouldn't hang up," I said.
"I should have told you, Mama. I know I should have told you. But, when
we talk, you just keep telling me what I should do. You read all those
pamphlets on how to talk about sex and all, but all you do is talk. You
don't listen to me. You never let me tell you how I feel. It is as if
my feelings aren't important. Because you're my mother you think you
have all the answers. But sometimes I don't need answers. I just want
someone to listen."
I swallowed the lump in my throat and
stared at the how-to-talk-to-your-kids pamphlets scattered on my
nightstand. "I'm listening," I whispered.
"You know, back
there on the road after I got the car under control, I started thinking
about the baby and taking care of it. Then I saw this phone booth and
it was as if I could hear you preaching to me about how people
shouldn't drink and drive. So I called a taxi. I want to come home."
"That's good honey," I said, relief filling my chest. My husband came
closer, sat down beside me and laced his fingers through mine.
"But you know, I think I can drive now."
"No!" I snapped. My muscles stiffened and I tightened the clasp on my
husband's hand. "Please, wait for the taxi. Don't hang up on me until
the taxi gets there."
"I just want to come home, Mama."
"I know. But do this for your mama. Wait for the taxi, please."
I listened to the silence in fear. When I didn't hear her answer, I bit
into my lip and closed my eyes. Somehow I had to stop her from driving.
"There's the taxi now." Only when I heard someone in the background
asking about a Yellow Cab did I feel my tension easing.
"I'm
coming home, Mama." There was a click, and the phone went silent.
Moving from the bed, tears forming in my eyes, I walked out into the
hall and went to stand in my 16 year old daughter's room. My husband
came from behind, wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on the
top of my head.
I wiped the tears from my cheeks. "We have to
learn to listen," I said to him. He studied me for a second, and then
asked, "Do you think she'll ever know she dialed the wrong number?"
I looked at our sleeping daughter, then back at him. "Maybe it wasn't such a wrong number."
"Mom, Dad, what are you doing?" The muffled voice came from under the
covers. I walked over to my daughter, who now sat up staring into the
darkness. "We're practicing," I answered. "Practicing what?" she
mumbled and laid back on the mattress, but her eyes already closed in
slumber.
"Listening," I whispered and brushed a hand over her cheek..
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Daily Bread
Wed, 10 Mar 2010 16:28
| Now to him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you blameless before the presence of his glory with great joy, to the only God, our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion, and authority, before all time and now and forever. Amen. |
| Jude 1:24-25 |
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