Pay Attention

We all look for bargains.
We watch for sales on the things we need to buy.
We appreciate discounts at our favorite stores.
We try to be wise with our spending.

I pondered this as I was walking.
I realized that there is something that is quite costly to us.
Perhaps that is why it is often so difficult to do.
We say the phrase all the time without thinking.

Pay Attention.

Every time I hear the word, attention, I think of the play, Death of a Salesman.
Willy Loman has worked hard his entire life.
His son, Biff, does not respect him.
Willy’s wife talked to her son; her monologue has stayed with me for many years.

Then make Charley your father, Biff. You can’t do that, can you? I don’t say he’s a great man. Willy Loman never made a lot of money. His name was never in the paper. He’s not the finest character that ever lived. But he’s a human being, and a terrible thing is happening to him. So attention must be paid. He’s not to be allowed to fall into his grave like an old dog. Attention, attention must finally be paid to such a person. You called him crazy… no, a lot of people think he’s lost his… balance. But you don’t have to be very smart to know what his trouble is. The man is exhausted. A small man can be just as exhausted as a great man. He works for a company thirty-six years this March, opens up unheard-of territories to their trademark, and now in his old age they take his salary away. Are they any worse than his sons? When he brought them business, when he was young, they were glad to see him. But now his old friends, the old buyers that loved him so and always found some order to hand him in a pinch–they’re all dead, retired. He used to be able to make six, seven calls a day in Boston. Now he takes his valises out of the car and puts them back and takes them out again and he’s exhausted. Instead of walking he talks now. He drives seven hundred miles, and when he gets there no one knows him anymore, no one welcomes him. And what goes through a man’s mind, driving seven hundred miles home without having earned a cent? Why shouldn’t he talk to himself? Why? When he has to go to Charley and borrow fifty dollars a week and pretend to me that it’s his pay? How long can that go on? How long? You see what I’m sitting here and waiting for? And you tell me he has no character? The man who never worked a day but for your benefit? When does he get the medal for that? (Arthur Miller, Death of a Salesman)

Attention must be paid.
Attention is costly.
Attention demands a precious commodity.
Attention demands our time.

We always know when people are listening to us.
Really listening to us.
They look us in the eye.
Their body language is open as they move in closer to hear every word.

Attention is costly.
Attention cannot be faked.
It is disrespectful to listen to someone while looking down at your phone or other things.
We can sense when someone is not paying attention to us.

I remember one of my children telling me a story when they were quite young.
They had been talking a mile a minute about anything and everything.
I was making dinner as they talked to me.
Listen to me, Mommy, I heard the little voice say.

I am, sweetheart, I answered as I made the salad.
This little one came over and touched my leg.
I got down on the same level.
Little hands reached up and grabbed my face, as the story was continued.

Listen to me, Mommy.
Attention must be paid.
Attention is costly.
Attention costs us our time, but it is so worth it.

Therefore, consider carefully how you listen. (Luke 8:18)

How well do we pay attention?
How well do we listen?
If we listen, are we listening with our whole bodies?
Paying attention is costly but it is so worth the cost.

Attention must be paid.
That is true not only for Willy Loman but for all of us.
We love someone by listening to them.
Really listening.