The Silence of the Wise
Frustrated, she sat back in her chair. Shoulders hunched, defeat written on her face.
“No one wants to hear my story anymore.”
Retired from her lifelong career, this Boomer ached for purpose and productivity. Like many of us, her worth was wrapped in her usefulness. Now she felt unseen and unneeded. She sat in silence, not because she had nothing to say—but because no one asked.
She knew God hadn’t left her—His love was a truth etched deep within. But people? They seemed to forget. And that word—seemed—held all the ache.
Her ache isn’t isolated—it echoes across a generation quietly sidelined by the speed of progress. A significant societal shift occurred with the increasing influence of the information available to us, leaving our elders behind. Younger people no longer need to seek the wisdom of older individuals because knowledge is readily available at their fingertips.
We need to transfer our focus from the example of the women who went before us to a new perspective. We looked up to our elders; the new generation craves relationships with authentic and reliable older friends. The more we use technology, the more there is an increase in noise in our world. We hear, see, and ingest too much for our minds to process.
Boomers and Gen Xers are needed not just for the advice they share but also for the sounding board they provide. The art of storytelling is still important, but we need to work on the art of listening. There are times and places for both; we must discern what is needed in each situation.
This is nothing new. This belief is echoed in Greek Philosophy, “we have two ears and one mouth, so that we can listen twice as much as speak,” which stressed the importance of giving space to listen.
James reminds us to “understand this, my dear brothers and sisters: You must all be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry” (James 1:19 NLT). Instead of looking for who to tell our story to, we need to make space for each other’s stories.
Give of our time.
Listen well.
Build trust.
Her story still matters. And ours do too—if we choose to listen.
