God judges by character, not appearance.

Faith is the key to answered prayer.

ALL EARS

WHY DID EVERYONE INSIST

ON TELLING ME THEIR WOES?

     When folks look at me, it seems that all they see are my ears! I guess I’m just one of those people. Strangers come up to me and pour their hearts out. “I used to write books and teach college,” a homeless man told me wistfully one day, as I was walking to an ATM, “but that part of my life is gone.” I listened and nodded. That’s me—always a shoulder to cry on. Once, a checker at the supermarket stopped in the middle of bagging my groceries to tell me her family wanted their own home, but couldn’t afford it. “Prices are too high here,” I agreed.

     Another clerk grumbled to me about her aching feet. Then one day she stepped out from behind the register to show me her new therapeutic shoes and get my opinion of them.

     Sometimes, after hearing everyone else’s problems, I feel exhausted. Drained. I want to cry out: “Let me tell you about my family problems, my health worries, my money troubles for a change!”

     Not long ago the owner of a local café took me aside. She told me her waitress’s husband had recently died. I could see she was devastated and need to talk. We did, for a long while.

     When I got home, I decided to pray. I always take my troubles straight to God. (He’s the Great Listener.) I mentioned the café owner, the waitress and her family. And all the people I’d met. That when it hit me: Maybe my job is to listen. Not to take on others’ troubles but to pass them on to the Lord, relay them up the line. I know that God will comfort those people as only he can. So now I look at myself in the mirror, and I don’t notice my wrinkles, just my two big ears! Listening doesn’t feel like a burden—at all anymore. It feels like a privilege—even a blessing.

On the outskirts of a small town, there was a big, old pecan tree just inside the cemetery fence. One day, two boys filled up a bucketful of nuts and sat down by the tree, out of sight, and began dividing the nuts. "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me,” said one boy. Several dropped and rolled down toward the fence. Another boy came riding along the road on his bicycle. As he passed, he thought he heard voices from inside the cemetery. He slowed down to investigate. Sure enough, he heard, "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me." He just knew what it was. He jumped back on his bike and rode off. Just around the bend he met an old man, the town drunk, with a cane, hobbling along. "Come here quick," said the boy, "you won’t believe what I heard! satan and the Lord are down at the cemetery dividing up the souls." The drunken fellow said, "Beat it kid, can’t you see its hard for me to walk and I begging money for a drink." When the boy insisted though, the man hobbled slowly to the cemetery. Standing by the fence they heard, "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me." The old drunk whispered, "Boy, you’ve been tellin’ me the truth. Let’s see if we can see the Lord." Shaking with fear, they peered through the fence, yet were still unable to see anything. The old man and the boy gripped the wrought iron bars of the fence tighter and tighter as they tried to get a glimpse of the Lord. At last they heard, "One for you, one for me. That’s all. Now let’s go get those nuts by the fence and we’ll be done." They say the old man made it back to town a full five minutes ahead of the kid on the bike.