On the Radio

Okay, this is a little bit of silliness. For the past few days I’ve been using these “wonder hours” to talk about really interesting notions, and how they may be applied to faith.

Today, I’m just going to give you a link to me on the radio. Actually, it is a me talking to Msgr. James Lisante on his program, “Personally Speaking,” which is broadcast by the USCCB and featured on Sirius Radio, at the Catholic channel (#159). Also on that particular broadcast is Jenifer Fulwiler, talking about infanticide in the ancient world. You can pick me up between 1/3 and halfway through the audio.

So, why is this wonderful? Is it because I have a big-fat ego and need to swank around saying, “lalala, listen to me, lalala” (there is a reason why some who dislike me call me “The Wankeress”!).

No…it is wonderful because it feeds into the theme of this whole retreat – of allowing things to happen, and of saying “yes” and taking the risk instead of huddling around a safe-feeling “no” and wondering why nothing ever changes for you.

Truthfully, in the past four years, I’ve been asked to participate in various broadcasts, and I’ve always said “no,” for a variety of reasons; I wanted my privacy, I didn’t (and don’t especially) want to be “famous,” I figured I would sound absurd, stupid, illogical and goofy.

Mostly, I refused because for most of my life I have dealt with a stammer that comes out in social situations. As I wrote here:

I am not much of a speaker, myself. As a kid I had a stammer that took years to get over, and even now, if I am particularly exhausted, that will return. While I can certainly talk a blue-streak around friends, among strangers I am almost morbidly silent and unwilling to draw attention to myself.

Sometimes the stammer even comes when I am among family members who, for whatever reason, make me uneasy.

When Msgr. Lisante’s producer contacted me about doing the show, my first response was – as usual – “thank you, no, you don’t want to listen to the travesty that is me…” But I surprised myself by saying “yes,” almost without thinking about it, and then rueing the recording day, when it came. “I write more fluently than I speak,” I wrote to Tony Rossi, who began to worry that he’d booked a female Mel Tillis onto the program.

Obviously, there is a lot of editing here – Lisante and I spoke for nearly 25 minutes and the broadcast is about a quarter-hour – and I am very grateful that they edited out the portion where I stopped in mid-sentence and pathetically asked, “you know…could you repeat the question, I’ve lost track of things, here and honestly have no idea what I’m jabbering on about right now…”

Well, I was nervous – in the privacy of my home, I engaged in the interview and completely blew out my Lady Mitchem Unscented – but Lisante and Rossi were very kind; so kind in fact, that when we were finished I felt elated and energized. I had said “yes” instead of “no” and opened myself up to something being offered, and I was just “letting go” and trusting that it would work out. I was being the stammering stone in the river, allowing a current to wash over me and wear down and smooth out the rough edge of a life-long insecurity.

It was scary, but I assented. More importantly, I trusted.

With the end result that the thing didn’t come out too badly. Yes, I stammer here and there, but it is not what I have been capable of in the past. Yes, they kindly edited out anything truly bone-headed I may have undoubtedly uttered. But, taken-all-in-all, I’m glad I did it, and I will likely try it again – I’ll say “yes” again, if asked.

Of course, sooner or later, I’ll say “yes” once too often, begin to feel too confident, and then fall flat on my face, and end up sounding (metaphorically speaking) like fat-lipped Roz on Fraiser’s radio drama. But I can’t help but think that a “yes” always involves some of that, too. If we’re engaged, and growing, we’re also blowing it sometimes and falling flat, and relearning the usefulness of humility. And of course, as Merton reminds us in the header, “As long as I assume the world is something I discover by turning on the radio…I am deceived from the start.”

That is, after all – the wonder, and the mystery of being alive.