Taxes are done...
our homeschooling year is almost over...
craft projects have been completed...
and books that were piled on my desk, mocking me, have been read.
I've gotten a lot off my plate, and I feel like I can sit down and blog again.
Of course, I've probably lost everyone who ever wanted to read what I had to say, so this will be more of an on-line journal for myself.
For now I would like to say praise God for Dr. Kathy Koch, who recently spoke at the Southeast Homeschooling Conference. In just one session she explained 18 years of trying to figure my husband out, as well as some of my questions about my kids. And she did it all by talking about the 8 different kinds of intelligences that we all have, in some combination. I am so grateful that I can finally see that what I considered to be a defect was, in reality, a different kind of intelligence.
I am also grateful to learn that my need to talk is, in fact, another kind of intelligence.
I am the sort of person that needs to discuss a show I saw, or a book I read, or a homily I heard, in order to "process it." I need to talk it over and get feedback from others before it can really gel in my mind; otherwise, it's just floating out there, nebulous, and I feel lost.
Unfortunately, my need to discuss things often exceeds others' capabilities to listen. My friend M, God bless her, is a saint. She understands more than anyone else that this is how I think things through, and has shown great patience as I've hashed out the great mysteries of the universe... along with the latest episode of The Walking Dead... and the books that I'm reading.
Truly, she deserves a medal.
My parents also have gone over and above what could be reasonably expected of others, and never made me feel like I was some obnoxious twit. I had no idea I talked that much (although the fact that I always got in trouble for talking in school should have given me a clue) They never sighed or looked bored. They always made me feel important because they LISTENED.
It's unfair, though, to depend on others to fulfill that need. People are fallible and often those closest to us make us feel unloved and unimportant when they fail to listen.
Tonight was one of those times.
After driving around in the car for awhile, having a good cry, I asked Jesus what I was supposed to do with this. One of my children immediately came to mind. He is someone a lot like me, who needs to share what is on his heart and to be HEARD. So often I have failed him, because I have viewed our need for talking as a defect -- I figured we both needed to hush and speak only when we had something important to say. Seeing it as a form of intelligence, however, is a different story altogether. He needs to process it out loud -- just like I do -- and needs someone who is willing and wanting to listen.
Comparing my reactions to him and my mom's reactions to me is, well, laughable (if it weren't so sad).
Final result: I'm going to try to remember how horrible this feels, and use it to make me a better mom for my son. I have no desire to make him feel this way. I want him to look back on his childhood with great joy, and say that no matter what, "My mom took the time to listen to me."