Wednesday, June 16, 2010

The mike is on

We are nearing the end of our flurry of doc appointments and endless waiting in doctor offices. And not a moment too soon. Matt insists one should never show up on time as we always wait a half hour and I insist we should be on time no matter what because it is the right thing to do. Our philosophical differnces here threaten to weaken the gentle sweet spirit I carefully cultivate. As I drove en route to NY, I had my phone headset on so I could call Matt's doctor and arrange his appointment. I left my message on their voice mail and closed the phone.
"Time to listen to Rush!" I said. I was anxious to hear my favorite bombastic radio host talk about his recent wedding.
I turned on the radio and Rush's voice boomed out that this time with this wife he had finally gotten it right.
"I hope he did," I told Asherel,"But I am not sure because this is what he said about wife #3 as well. "

I chattered on in this teachable moment about wise choices in something so valuable as marriage and then about how to make a marriage work. I didn't notice she was plugged into her iPod and wasn't listening.

But someone was.

At that point my phone beeped and asked if I needed more time to leave my message.
I think I have made enough of a fool of myself , I told my phone.

So apparently I had just left a 6 minute monologue unwittingly on the doctor's answering service about marriage, wise choices, politics, and persistance in relationships. I wracked my brain hoping I had not spewed any horribly stupid opinions or words in those 6 minutes. I was the shuddering public figure who suddenly realizes the conversation he had thought was private had ben televised - his mike was on.
Fortunately I have never met that particular doc so it was unlikely I had vomited any nasty or incriminating remarks about him.
But the panic that gripped me as I tried to recall all I had said made me think how little I live the way I should. I mean, should I really ever fear that "the mike is on"?
Afterall I am fond of reminding my dear ones that God hears every thought. He of course loves us anyway, but people do not tend to be as unconditional.
But it is something I should strive for- to always speak as though my words were broadcast. Afterall, they really are. Someone with a capital S is listening.

When I called the doc back and described myself as the one who left the 6 minute message, they laughed and told me it was the wrong number but were happy to transfer me. I had reached the psychiatry department by accident.

Excellent speech becometh not a fool.

Nothing is impossible with God


  1. There are no accidents...

    But personally, it made me nauseous to hear Rush yesterday. I mean, really, should a serial marry-er go on and on for an hour about the fourth go-round? I found it completely unseemly.

  2. I agree, Holly. But I love the story, Vicky. I laughed out loud when I read your last line ~ you reached the psychiatry department! That's great. Maybe some good food for thought there!