Sometimes it is worth the effort to take notes

All through school I was awful at taking notes. The minute the teacher or professor started talking I was already checked out. Usually I was checked out and into the next thing I wanted to get into in life. And many times, that next thing wasn’t a great alternative to what I could have been taking note of there.

In his latest blog post, Seth Godin says:

“Sometimes, we get the chance to hear about someone else’s experience. In those moments, it’s tempting to use the opportunity to explain a situation, to excuse or even to persuade. Perhaps it pays to simply take good notes.”

I think there is a connection to my poor note taking skills and my tendency at one time to be too judgmental of people. I do confess, though I’ve come a long way with that, I still have my challenges.

The reason I often refused to take notes, if I’m being honest, was because I refused to believe anyone had anything to teach me. The reason I was once too dismissive of other people is because I too often believed they should be far more concerned with hearing my approach to life than wasting my time telling me about theirs.

Why would a guy who has life all figured out need to hear anyone else’s story?

In my early twenties, I got convicted of drinking and driving. As part of my sentence, I had to spend a weekend at a residential treatment center. And as a further part of that weekend, I had to sit in some “group therapy” sessions.

The first night of that experience, I was furious. Why would anyone make a “guy like me” sit in a group conversation with “people like them.”

I remember that first night, there was a rugged looking man sitting next to me in the group. I’d noticed him earlier in the day standing outside the building chain smoking cigarettes. I thought to myself, man, does this guy need to be in this place. As we sat there in the group, I was sure the biggest part of my punishment was merely having to sit so close to a life so disgustingly in shambles.

But that night, that man told the story of his life. Maybe for one of the first times in my life, I started taking notes. Not on paper, but my mind memorized every word he said. The man told stories about his life that were not unfamiliar to me. The stories of his youth. The stories of his struggles. The stories of his loneliness.

When he was finished talking, I realized his was not the only life in shambles. As he talked, I could see not only where I had been in life, but where I was going. He looked over at me a couple of times as he talked, looked squarely at me, as if that were indeed his whole point in sharing his story. He seemed to be thinking - I hope you’re taking notes.

I hope I see that man in heaven. There are some people you just want to thank for sharing their stories. You want them to become your eternal friend. There are some people you just want to grab and tell them over and over how often in your life you referred back to the notes you took on theirs.

I think one of the endless joys in heaven will be how often we get to discover how our life in shambles made a beautiful impact on someone else.

That weekend, I started a lot of journeys in life. I’m still on some of them today.

One of them is when I see someone chain smoke outside of a building, I’m far more curious about the story of their life than I am inclined to judge it.

I often picture Jesus sitting next to me in that group that weekend. He’s sitting next to me and thinking, you know, your life is in shambles buddy, but I have the best seat in this group.

Oh how he has pulled that seat right up next to me many times since....