My brother is nearly five years older than I am, and growing up, that meant he was the trailblazer, the one through whom my parents learned how to parent a child of that age. In other words, I imagine there was a lot of trial and error involved.
When the time came for him to learn to drive, I vaguely remember my mom and dad taking turns taking him out for practice. My brother was thrilled, of course, edging closer to what I perceived as a sense of independence.
Eventually, he was ready to drive, and he would often take the wheel when one of my parents drove us to school.
I remember them gradually letting him drive more and more, until there were nearby errands my mom felt comfortable sending him on alone.
But one scene stands out clearly in my memory: when my brother would ask for the car to go out on weekend nights. Driven by a concern that—I realize now—was perfectly normal, my parents were somewhat reluctant to hand over the keys. After a back-and-forth of arguments, persuasion, and assurances that he would be home on time, the three of them would agree on the details and seal the deal.
For whatever reason, I don’t recall him ever actually keeping his end of the bargain. He would arrive one, two, three, or more hours past the agreed-upon time. But, thank God, he always made it home safe and sound.
My parents’ lecture would come either right when he got home or the next day. Apologies abounded, followed by punishment in the form of revoked privileges—no going out and no car. Until the next weekend rolled around, and my brother would ask for permission to go out again.
Agreements, promises, and good intentions were voiced, and permission, along with the privilege of using the car, was granted once more. Only for the same thing to happen all over again.
Has it ever happened to you—someone assuring you they are listening and will heed your words, only for you to discover that something completely different happens?
In Scripture, the psalmist invites us not to be deaf to the voice of God.
One way to receive the psalmist’s words is to cultivate the willingness to listen and respond.
How do you feel when someone seems unwilling to listen to you? Could it be that God feels something similar when we do not listen to Him?
Eventually, after some back-and-forth, my parents and my brother reached an agreement that made sense for both sides, though I’m not sure how much time passed in between, hahaha. And in full transparency, I also have had my own experiences of being able to listen, and of (not) wanting to listen.
What about you? Have you noticed times when you lack the willingness to listen to someone else? And what about listening to God?
If the Spirit leads you, share with Jesus the Carpenter just how open you are to listening to Him. You might even discover that you can be a little more open to others as well.
Marisol
P.S.: We can hear about the invitation to listen to God and to one another in the readings for the XXIII Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A.
P.S. 2: If you would like to delve deeper into Christian spirituality, I invite you to sign up for this program being offered by the Center for Religion and Spirituality at Loyola Marymount University in the fall of 2026, offered in Spanish: https://crs.lmu.edu/espanol/
