Knowing when to speak and when to listen

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My mother had a canister placed strategically on our kitchen counter on which the following words were written: "and I've often heard defended, little said is soonest mended". I read these words many times when I was growing up, so much so, that they are still embedded in my memory, some fifty years later. I have no idea where the quote came from, and the name of the author has probably been lost in antiquity, nevertheless the words had, as I'm sure my mother intended, a great affect on my life. I cannot say however, that I always followed its injunction to the letter, indeed far from it, but it certainly made me more aware of the potency of words. The apostle James, in a letter to the early Christians wrote, "the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity: so is the tongue among our members, that it defileth the whole body, and setteth on fire the course of nature; .. for every kind of beasts, and of birds, and of serpents, and of things in the sea, is tamed, and have been tamed by mankind: but the tongue can no man tame, it is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison". ( James 3: 6-7) Surly such words should make us all think before we speak, but for many of us the words fall by the wayside. There is of course, a time to speak - but also a time to keep silent. Discerning between the two is often one of our greatest challenges. Many examples can be given for a time when words are best left unsaid. We have all heard the saying, "if you can`t say something good about a person, don`t say anything". This would most assuredly would apply when we are tempted to pass along some piece of juicy gossip. Another time when it is best to `hold our tongue`, is when we are angry, for it is then that the unkindest barbs are let loose. On the lighter side, it may not be a good idea to refer to your wife as `plump`, even if you mean it in a `pleasing` way. A number of years ago, a young man, who was also a good friend of the family, lost his brother in a motorcycle accident. The two had been very close and I knew it was devastating for him. A couple of days after the funeral, he stopped by for a visit. We chatted for a few moments, and I was looking for some words of consolation, when suddenly the realization hit me, that he had been listening to others for almost a week now, and what he most needed was to get things out of his system. My words, my advice was not needed now, I had to become the quiet one, the one who listens. My young friend had planned to stay but a few minutes, but as the words came tumbling out, he seemed to lose all tract of time. For more than two hours I listened as he talked of his brother, of their childhood antics, the humorous stories, the sad times, we laughed together, we cried together. Eventually he arose to go home, but a burden had been lifted from his shoulders, and I had learned a valuable lesson - there is more than one way to be a good conversationalist.