People with thoughts just like me. People with dreams just like me. People with fears just like me.

But I haven't heard the screams, the crashes, the terrors of an earthquake for hours and days and weeks. I haven't felt the parch of my throat aching for moisture. I haven't frantically searched for my child, my mother, my friend.

I read last week that these earthquake survivors desperately need people to listen to them—just listen. Not counseling, not advice--just someone to listen. "Weep with those who weep."

Jane isn't in Haiti, but she needs a listener. She is troubled by the behavior of her teenaged son. He's a good kid, but he's making a few questionable choices. Jane talks to her friend; she talks to a leader; she talks to an adult who knows her son. No one listens. Each one is quick with an action plan for Jane. Jane feels judged, alone. She feels "less than."

There is a call for listeners—and not just in Haiti. Can I listen and share someone's pain without speaking of a fix, a solution (even if it's in my thoughts). Do I think myself to be so capable that I must have a solution for everyone?

How long can I listen? I have read it; I know it; I just don't do it. Only special people and special occasions entice me to listen. If I listen to the least person, I have conveyed the person of Jesus—The Solution. He listens to me—every time.