The Lord takes my hand and we rest in lush meadows, where life and beauty thrive beside the quiet waters. Here, we talk and he restores peace to my soul. —Psalm 23:2–3 (King Jimmy Translation)
“Do I Need a Hearing Test?”
If there was one thing I enjoyed about my job, it was watching the sunrise every morning from my office. If there was one thing I hated about my job, it was watching the sunrise every morning from my office. Every day at the office started before the rooster crowed.
Five o’clock—17:00 hours—couldn’t come fast enough. After another day of nonstop activity that started before six, dealing with delayed backorders, miscommunications with uncooperative colleagues, missed lunches, I was ready to vacate the office.
I gathered the second shift guys for the nightly team meeting, outlining the production goals for that night. Being responsible for the production of twenty-two technicians with varying degrees of maturity and competence, plus keeping upper management happy by making budget every month, created stress. At times, I felt like I ran a daycare.
At one minute after five, I shutdown the laptop, loaded up and at 5:02, I shot out of the parking lot. My shot was short.
“Oh, crud!” All three lanes of the freeway were bumper-to-bumper. Just my luck! More delays. I queued into the line longer than a freight train to enter the so-called “free”way. Congress will pass a budget quicker than I’ll get home tonight.
It wasn’t ten minutes before the phone rang. “How’d it go today?” the boss asked.
“Oh, you wouldn’t believe.” I lamented my normal, frazzled day.
“It’ll be better tomorrow,” he said with a chuckle. “Get with me first thing in the morning about your department’s number last month. See ya.”
Within thirty seconds, the phone rang again. “Hey, boss,” the night shift guy said. “we got a problem.”
Creeping through traffic at 3 mph, we brainstormed for a solution to avoid another production setback. This must be how the freeway accident occurred—some yo-yo yakking on phone, not paying attention. The traffic reporter said the best alternate route from Irving to Fort Worth would be to go through Kansas City. I took two more calls before reaching home.
Around dusk, I pulled into my driveway. For the first time that spring, I noticed the trees budding after the rough winter. This can’t be. How could April be sliding into May since it seemed like just last week we celebrated New Year’s Eve? I sighed deeply. I’m too busy. I enjoyed the quiet of the truck for a couple minutes, closed my eyes and breathed pleas to Jesus. Help me to unwind, Lord. My old Aggie body may be home, but my mind lingers at the office.
The shop called again. I ignored it.
A most pleasant aroma greeted me when I opened the door. Oh, yeah! Snookins got something good on the stove. I snuck up behind Mrs. Aggie. “Hey good looking. Whatcha got cooking? You’re stud-muffin is home”
She made no response but kept stirring the skillet.
Uh, oh . . . The silent treatment. What did I do now? Birthday? Anniversary? New Callaway driver? I’ve learned over the years, to avoid major bodily harm, do not grab Snookins during her silent treatment.
While I changed clothes, the phone rang. Shop again. Another problem, another twenty-minute conversation. I went back to the kitchen, hoping baby pumpkin was over her mad. “Solved another crisis at the shop, babe. What’s on the stove?”
Again, the silence was deafening. You know, maybe tootsie needs her hearing checked? She may not hear me. Maybe all that screaming she does when she watches The View has affected her hearing. I should set up an appointment for her. “I’m gonna check my email,” and went to the den. She needs a little more chill’n time.
The Holy Spirit finally got my attention via an instant message. This has gone on long enough.
You’re right, Lord. I turned and marched back into the kitchen. “I’m sorry for whatever I did. I promise it won’t happen again. Forgive me. Now, what’s for supper?”
Mrs. Aggie slammed the spatula on the counter and glared at me. “Jimmy! Honestly!” She shook her head in disbelief. “For the third time, Aggie, I told you we’re having chicken!” She sighed and rolled her eyes. “I’m setting you up for a hearing test tomorrow. You can’t hear squat.”
During my working years, I was the “go-to” guy. Need something done—see Jimmy, he’ll handle it. My ADHD teamed with my OCD to keep me jumping from one technical headache to another assembly malfunction. I’d almost have one fire put out before another erupted. Catastrophes ranged from a technician’s hurt feeling, to tracking lost parts, to buying the wrong brand of picante sauce for break-time burritos. While engine computers were stacked three-feet high, ready to be downloaded and updated, annoying salesmen handed me a dozen quotes to review. My writing OCD even compelled me to rewrite a memo eleven times, making certain it was grammatically correct, with plot, subplot, antagonist and obstacle, with all the i’s crossed and all the t’s dotted. The final edited memo: Work time: 05:30 to 17:00.
Mrs. Aggie was correct. I wasn’t hearing. But it wasn’t just my physical hearing that needed healing; my spiritual ears had massive wax buildups that kept the voice of God muffled. This around-the-clock busyness affected my spiritual hearing. Spending time in God’s word and prayer became a challenge, with the demands of life, work, family activities. There was always something that needed to be done. Stay busy, accomplish more.
You know what is ironic? Church ministries, services, charity work all required more energy from my own already drained source of strength. These deeds, noble as they are, cluttered my mind, hindering the Holy Spirit’s calling me to follow him “to lie down in green pasture beside the still waters. I want to restore your soul.”
Am I alone in this? Have any of my readers experienced a similar situation? We’ve been so busy doing good things for God, our family and mankind that we failed to hear him speaking to us?
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Dear Lord, unclog our spiritual hearing. Help us to put aside these distractions to follow you as you lead us beside still waters and restore us as only you can.
Stay close to Jesus.
Jimmy
P.S. Mrs. Aggie: “Jimmy, you need a hearing test!”
Your humble Aggie scribe: “Whatcha mean? I already have a hairy chest.”
Jimmy Eskew © 2017
THANKFUL 
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