I am so busy. Usually my mind is racing — thinking of everything I need to do. As I'm zipping through the day, if somebody needs me for something unnecessary, I postpone whatever that may be. Though in reality, I never really postpone requests. I just wind up never doing them.

Did you miss the three most important words above? "Somebody needs me." Well, I've missed those words for years.

"How was your day?" Bob usually asks. "Fine. How was yours?" I rarely hear his answers. I'm always in the middle of a dozen things.

My cat Persy adores me. I love him, too. He does an endearing thing when I'm heading his way. He stands on his back feet and reaches up with his front paws to be picked up and cuddled. One day last week he did that four times, and each time I said, "Hi sweetie," and rushed past his open arms.

Something is very wrong with this picture.

Last Wednesday, Bob said something while I had the phone in one hand, ordering business supplies. At the same time, I was putting chicken in the microwave to defrost it. He then left for an hour to walk the dogs. When he came back, he saw I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt.

He looked at his watch. "What about our meeting?" I was in the middle of replying to 11 e-mails. Still e-mailing, I said, "What meeting?"

"I reminded you over an hour ago about our meeting."

What was he talking about, I wondered, continuing to type away. He stopped me by tenderly taking my hand. I said, "I'm sorry, sweets. I have to e-mail these people back right away."

He gently took both of my hands so I couldn't type, sat next to me and said, "You're always so distracted that you don't even hear me. I feel like if I told you we won the $200 million lottery jackpot, you'd say, "That's nice. How was your day?"

"I can't help it," I said defensively, pulling my hands away from his loving hold. "I've got 10 things to do."

"There will always be 10 things. Now I'm going to have to reschedule our meeting. You tuned me out entirely today."

"I'm so busy, Bob. I want to talk. Really I do. But sometimes I've got too many things going on."

"Too many things more important than me?"

Boy, did that startle me.

And so, I began my new odyssey. I began to follow a practice of active listening.

At the supermarket the next day, a very old woman was trying to keep the door open to the freezer section while reading ice cream labels. She said, "The print's so small." Normally I would have nodded and continued on. Instead, I actively listened.

I stopped my cart. "What kind are you looking for?"

"Any brand of vanilla that has strawberries." Resigned, she closed the freezer door and said, "It doesn't matter if I buy ice cream."

"No way. Ice cream matters a lot! We're on a mission." We both laughed.

I could see better than she could. And with my poor coordination, she could keep the door open better than I could. As a team, we found vanilla with strawberries. "Voila!" I said, as I put the ice cream in her cart. What a grin she gave me. I then realized how many wonderful opportunities I've let pass by because I've had "too much to do."

Now, when somebody needs me, I pay attention. You should see how sweet it is when Persy reaches way up and I lift him to my chest. He purrs so loudly while he puts his arms around my neck and rubs his face against mine.

Active listening has made a big difference. One, if we won the lottery, I'd know it. And two, I won't miss moments that are important to others. If it's not important to me, that's not the point.

The point is this: I'm finally and truly, from the bottom of my very busy heart, all ears.