Seek first to understand, then to be understood.—Stephen Covey
If you ever want to see three grown men cry (humor me), ask them to pull chain link fence posts out of the ground with their bare hands. That’s how it was going one Sunday afternoon for me, my brother Tom and our brother-in-law, Jeff. Tom had lost a property line dispute with his neighbor—who, after weeks of back-and-forth and are-you-kidding-me, insisted Tom move the bordering fence between their yards one miserable foot.
We had detatched all the chain link wire and were now trying to pull the first post, a corner stake, out of the ground. The three of us took turns banging at it with a sledgehammer to show we meant business. So there! It barely budged. Then we took turns grabbing the somewhat slippery galvanized steel and tugged, yanked and grunted. Two of us tried teaming up. No luck. Finally, all three of us were at it, one, two, three, pull! over and over. That stubborn post stood its ground.
We dug away some earth at the base of the post and saw our nemesis about 18 inches below the surface: a cement shoe all around the base of the post, holding it firm. It was Herman Munster-sized.
Sweating, sore and exhausted, the three of us collapsed to the ground and stared at the thing. That’s when it hit me. “Guys,” I said, excitedly. “Stand back.”
I grabbed the sledgehammer and instead of whacking the post sideways, I pounded the top of it for all I was worth, swinging away as if I were John Henry driving railroad spikes into the ground. I kept at it, driving the post further down until I heard the cement shoe crack and crumble. I threw the hammer down and jiggled the post, which now felt like a loose tooth. I yanked and it gave way like butter. I hauled it up and out triumphantly, like Arthur gently pulling Excalibur from the stone.
Sometimes the way out or in is the very opposite of what we might think. Sometimes a lasting truth is wholly unlike a first impression. Sometimes the meek shall inherit the earth, or at least inherit the fence post the earth finally yields. The divine speaks in paradox.
So maybe it is the blind who really see.
Maybe it is the hard time that is the good time.
Maybe it is the inarticulate who has something profound to say, the homeless person who helps you see where your heart resides, the lack of material wealth that is true abundance. Maybe it is doubt that is the only real certainty, for it comes up every time.
Maybe it is more love and not less for those we disagree with, whose behavior we abhor, that will bring peace. Put away the sandpaper of condescension that only wears away at patience, and instead swing away with the hammer of compassion. Forget tugging and yanking and trying to get them to see our way, which experience shows to be fruitless, time and again. Pile-drive ourselves further into their experience, seeking first to understand, then to be understood. Soften the ground with mercy and shatter their resistance with love.
It defies logic. Yet sometimes it is the only way to draw the post from the ground, the sword from the stone, or warmth from a frozen heart.
Rob, this is my favorite Stephen Covey habit. I just read this to Richard, and he was absolutely riveted. His eyes lit up when you started to pile drive! What a powerful metaphor and message.
Rob, so well said! I often forget this concept despite the fact that I have experienced at various times in my 73 years. Thanks for the reminder.