I come from one of those families where you have to yell at the dinner table to get in a word. Everyone has a1opinion and talks at the same time, and no one has a 2 leading to heated arguments. We often talk or even debate with each other on different tops3. A family like mine has made me more curious about the world around me, making me tend to4 anything anyone tells me. But it has also made me realize that I'm not a good listener. And when I say" listening", I'm not referring to the nodding your head and5 answering Ooh l see variety. I mean the kind of listening where you find yourself deeply6with the person you're speaking with, when his story becomes so vivid that your world becomes 7 about you and more about him. No, I was never very good at that.
I spent summer in South Africa two years ago. I worked for a good non-profit school called Noah, which works8on behalf of children affected by AIDS. But if you asked me what really did in South Africa, I'd tell you one thing: I listened, and I listened. Sometimes I 9, but mostly listened.
And if I had not spent two months 10, I might have missed the11 moment when a quiet little girl at one of Noah's community centers, orphaned(孤儿) at the age of three, whispered after a long 12, 'T love you. "
Before that summer, I knew how to hear. I could sit down with anyone and hear their stories and nod and respond at the13time—but most of the time I was thinking about the next words out of my own14. Ever since my summer in South Africa, I have noticed that it's in those moments when my mouth is closed and m15 is wide open that I've learned the most about other people, and perhaps about myself.
