Skip to main content

Learning to Listen

Tonight, I had a rather long conversation with a good friend of mine. She is quite a bit older than me, but one of the sweetest and most caring women that I know. We stayed after a meeting at church to chat a bit, and after two hours I realized I had been sort of rambling in reminiscing about my life. I jumped from the topics of weariness in caring for kids while my husband is at work to marriage to "life happens" to "I'm grateful things happened how they did" and all over the place. The amazing part is that my friend stayed-and listened-to my ramblings and let me just talk. 

After sharing personal information, I always feel like I want to hide under a rock. Like I've just made the social blunder of sharing how unintelligent I am in front of people who are extremely smart. Like people probably think "so that's why she's so weird!" or "wow...that girl needs some help." But I don't mind. And I doubt my friend was thinking any of those things. If anything, she was probably thinking, "This girl needs someone to talk to more often, she really shouldn't keep these things pent up like this! Next time I better bring my sleeping bag!"

But with all jokes aside, it's really hard to be vulnerable and translucent to others. A personal project I did as a junior in college was a DVD focused on how I viewed my identity. At the showing, I was so nervous I felt as if everyone was watching me shower. I felt super exposed, and super self-conscious that people were looking at me and shaking their heads. I think the Enemy wants us to feel alone, to feel exposed, so that we don't reach out to the other members of our spiritual bodies to connect. I think the Enemy wants us to feel as if the things we struggle to share are things that will condemn us. As an exercise, I often challenge myself to add an extra tidbit about myself that may help others relate to me better. There's a little healing in every sentence. And I don't apologize to myself for how my life has turned out. I used to. I used to apologize to myself for disappointing my visions of who I would be, what I would be doing, who I would be married to. Now I feel confident that God has worked all things together for good in my life. Good things have happened, and bad things have happened. Life has happened. And I'm growing and moving on and up as an individual, and proud of my progress. Even though I still have a lot of work to do.

It's okay to need to talk to others. The Bible says to "Be devoted to one another in brotherly love; honor one another above yourselves." When friends or co-workers add that "extra tidbit", devote time to them. Honor their feelings, and the "right now" of where they're at. Be aware that in another couple of weeks, they may be in a new place, and don't judge their growth. I admit, being in the house all of the time and not cultivating relationships over the phone or through email has left me with a bit of a need to just talk. It's such a blessing to find those who honor me and are devoted to me to just listen.

Let's challenge each other to be devoted to one another and honor one another with our time and our ears...let's just listen. It can be a very loving thing to do.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

White or Black? Choose ONE.

After a long hiatus from blogging, I was finally inspired to pick up my virtual "pen" and write after reading, crying, and being inspired by an article in the May issue of Ebony magazine. Catapulted in part by the remarks by Halle Berry in a past issue of Ebony regarding her view on her daughter's race, this issue is chock-full of articles regarding mixed persons' views of themselves, their families, their mixed-raced children, and what they regard themselves as racially. The crying ensued as relief-that I am not alone, that others feel as I do, that I can share my feelings without the fear of judgement. That I can be honest about who I see myself as. Because this is about ME, not about others' feelings or perceptions of me. Not about what is "politically correct" regarding my raceor allowing society to push me into a "neat little box" of either Black or White. As an adoptee, my Black parents always made sure I knew what I was mixed with, b

What I Wish I Would've Done

Everyone handles grief differently. I would say I hold it at a distance, tolerating it in small spurts. My Great-Grandmother Donna Langdon died recently. Although I only knew her for a short time (being reunited 6-7 years ago after being adopted), I find myself missing her. I handle death in a very meticulous way. First, I being to tell myself that it will soon happen, sometimes preparing many, many years in advance. I have done this with my grandparents, and I did this with my great-grandmother. Some people say they "don't think about it," but I'm the opposite...I understand it as a normal part of life, I forewarn myself of it's pending coming, and gently remind myself every so often so I can figure out the best way for me to handle the situation. This may seem morbid to you, or insensitive even. Truth is, if I don't think about it, plan on it, I'm not sure how my grief process would end up. For me, death is the ultimate separation in this life. I'

Sometimes, I cry...

Today was terrible. I'm sitting now finally having gotten through it, with "Sex and the City: The Movie" playing in the background, my hair damp from an aromatic shower, and my honesty about to boil over and burn your lap. After a nearly two-week streak of overwhelming joy and happiness, hope for new possibilities in my life, today I crashed, and I mean h-a-r-d. Today mommy-ing was so rough. My son seems to never stop calling me. The cat never stops play-biting. My daughter gets clingy and whiny from getting up too early and wanting to nap before lunch. The long list of things to do on my day off (written by me, of course) is slowly being completed, but my fatigue isn't melting away. In fact, even after 9 hours of sleep, I was so tired today I was disappointed in my body, of all things. This is not an ordinary tired. This is a I've-been-trying-to-figure-out-why-I've-been-fatigued-for-over-a-year-and-my-doctors-don't-seem-to-care-or-know-anything-and-I