Active listening Archives – Facets of Faith

Welcome! This month at FACETS, we’re pondering connection and correction as if it matters. We’ve all had honey-sweet and stinkin’ rotten experience with this thing. The team is sharing, but we hope you’ll share your thoughts, too. Check out Tracy’s post here. We’ll hold space for Kim and our guest the next two weeks. Come and see!

I (Jennifer) am glad you chose to enter into this space to ponder deep things and find community and rest for your soul. That’s what our team dreamed of—a sincere sisterhood of women learning to tend to heart, mind, and soul (our own and others’).

If you know know me or read my words, you know I’m a mom of two amazing, strong young men. My little boys are officially adults. Once upon a time I winced at the pace of the early years. “It’ll go so quick,” they said, “You’ll blink, and they’ll be gone.” A mom of toddlers doesn’t have a category for that. I didn’t.

They were right.

Give children roots and wings.

Nothing turns your heart toward parenting choices like your kids moving into the “wings” part of roots and wings. An oversized magnifying glass suddenly appears in your hand, and hindsight grants new perspective. I won’t lie. I wish I knew what it meant to walk some decisions to their destination. Perspective. I might’ve made different choices.

It’s not my intent to lament. I’ve gathered shiny, gold truth nuggets over time, and I’m reminded life lessons are redeemed by sharing stories and their wisdom.

A child needs a caring adult’s presence and protection.

An infant can do nothing for himself. A child lacks forethought, reason, and logic. Initially, my role was simply to keep them alive. Feeding. Clothing. Protecting them from a big world they didn’t understand. One needed encouragement to explore; the other required an understanding of life with limits. Often double-teamed, I fell into the habit of knee-jerk response parenting. I’m not proud.

A fault line and faulty imagination.

I was very present. (A smart phone wasn’t an option.) I kept them alive. (An accomplishment. Really!) I learned to straddle and hop the fault line between anticipating and rapid response. Know what happened next? I anticipated more and more.

A three-year-old shied away from people and experiences. I saw him too timid to walk into his first day on the job at twenty-three. A four-year-old shoplifted candy. I saw him in an orange jumpsuit at twelve. I leveraged wisdom, reason, sternness, and cajoling—whatever may communicate my superior life experience and convince the toddler to change. (Really, you ask? Yeah. Really.) Silly me.

Pride versus pride.

As I recall my boys felt ten-foot-tall and bulletproof by the age of seven. As the primary caregiver, parenting shifted somewhere between the ages of seven and nine. I saw myself as the gatekeeper, the line-holder, the establisher of boundaries. I really became an obstacle. Somewhere on the other side of this strong mom (or in another direction) could lie more fun, joy, and deeper relationship fueled by connection rather than the correction. Yuck! I was so blind.

Are you queasy with me right now? Don’t worry. There is hope. I’m encouraged. My intuitive imaginations were wrong. My family partnered in both personal and professional relationships to sort things. My sons are on their own journey toward the heart, mind, and will of God. He’s a better Parent than me. All very good things!

My young men have peered over the edge of the nest; one is fledging, and the other is calculating his flight path. We’re all learning better connection skills and trying to take connecting opportunities. I’m intent on releasing them to God’s mind, heart, and will. It takes practice. I’m not good at it yet.

We can infect friendships.

I thought raising my children to adulthood was all there was in this, but no. I examined my close relationships and noticed something: the conversations weren’t mommy-toddler exchanges, but there were similarities.

A woman falling in love with a man disinterested in her God. You’ll ruin your life! Another marriage in tatters. Learn and do these five basic “wifey things.” A woman I barely know wanting to study the Bible. My forte! Learn how to do a word study in a foreign language! I had all the solutions.

I hadn’t learned to listen. I listened to respond, carefully forming wisdom in my mind and waiting for a pause. Then I’d share my thoughts and experience supported with Bible verses for good measure. Yuck! I was so blind.

The presence-protection fault line, imaginations, and pride hurt relationships, but it took on acceptable appearance in the form of sharing counsel, helping, and teaching. (Ugh! I hadn’t learned a thing.)

I was desperate, and I engaged a boatload of resources! Jan Johnson’s Invitation to the Jesus Life introduced the in-the-moment, purposeful lifestyle. Experiencing God by Henry Blackaby revealed the heart, mind, and will of God in a fresh way. Dr. Henry Cloud’s Boundaries and McGee’s The Search for Significance taught me who I am and how I to do life with God and others. Eventually I learned about the “chiros moment,” a process of discovery unfolding where more good questions exist than preachy-teachy statements.

Everything pointed to the Bible. I learned about the beautiful, biblical, connected life!

Offer the gifts of time and space to others.

Time is valuable. We give a precious gift when we sit with others.

Connectedness is not co-dependence. There is healthy separation in relationships; others are not me, and I am not them. Everyone makes their choices. Can I honor others by releasing them to their heavenly Father, Jesus, Scripture, and the Holy Spirit’s counsel? Let it be!

Active listening is a gift.

In our crazy-busy, proud culture memes and sound bites rule. Yesteryear’s sit coms solved in thirty minutes what this generation relieves in seconds with pithy quotes over an image or a five-minute Facebook Live. Is it possible to listen without planning a smart response? Can empathy come before solving someone’s problem? Yes, but it takes voracious intentionality!

Connection!

I want to see, I mean really see, the person in front of me! Can I be countercultural by offering my time and an ear? I want to know others’ needs, hopes, dreams—their words in their voice, not some shadowy version in my head.

Correction?

What if correction happened when the Bible and the Spirit spoke to the heart? What if wisdom was only shared at the Spirit’s prompting rather than a carefully constructed argument or Kraken-like release? What if the voice and tone were slow, measured, full of truth with gentleness and respect, and not without clear direction from God?

Safe people can enter into deep conversations, and they share truth out of healthy, connected relationship. Then the whole “correction conversation” goes quite differently, I’ve found. I’ve been part of a women’s group that meets regularly on Wednesday nights. This group of ladies worked hard to create a safe, connecting environment. We have miles to go, and there are many more women who need this precious place to land, but we are seeking a place of connection while treading softly with God in correction.

Thanks for reading! I’d love to read your comments below or at our Facebook page.

Welcome to Facets! We’re glad you dropped by. We think you’ll enjoy this month’s topic: finding family. Tracy shared about finding family through a DNA test, Kim is crafting thoughts for next Tuesday, and the following week we have a guest to introduce.I (Jennifer) have memories: playing outside until dusk in the little suburban neighborhood; games of football, frisbee, and tag in a vacant lot across the street; neighborhood kids in that lot after school, Saturday afternoons, and more often in the summer. When the street light on our corner lit up, it was time to go home.

I, with my short legs, wanted to tag along with my older sisters; truth is, as a little sister, I wasn’t cool enough to run with the big kids. I’d show up, only to be sent home. That stage went on for at least three forevers.

In a blink, the oldest sister was off to school, then the second. By then I was drowning in turbulent high school years that transitioned into college chaos. The last sister was on her own journey four years later.

The nest eventually emptied; we all found our flight patterns. I migrated furthest away. We still gather when we can, and I’ve found the transition in these years to be refreshing. It’s been a long time coming, this season we’re in.

You can live with people and never know them.
Never assume. Lesson learned. I lived nearly 18 years with my sisters and thought I knew every detail about them. The truth is I held a caricature of each sister in my mind. One was “the smart, responsible one.” Another was “the smart, social one.” Another was “the super-talented one who could do anything.” Those descriptions were accurate. The distorted caricature took shape over layers of sibling arguing and competition.

Lately, the time spent with family has been different. We’ve flown and grown. Time apart allowed for new experiences and individual growth. I’m not the same person. But, guess what! They aren’t the same either. Some threads in the fabric are distinct, maybe bolder or shinier than they were. The character traits are intricately woven. Many threads have changed or been removed altogether, a little like intricate cutwork. Much of who I am (and who my sisters are) may come from our shared environment as kids, but now I know we didn’t experience the same things in the same way. Many life-changing experiences were never shared at all.

Three phone calls changed my relationships.

Road trips are revealing.
Two phone calls on very different days.

The first asked if I was willing to go on a road trip to Massachusetts. I had spent time with my sister, but nothing as long or in such small space. I had the time, and I love road trips. We’d do a little sight seeing, but there was a new baby to see, too. An adventure! With a sister? Okay. Our rental car had no key fob, stormy weather followed us east for two days, and we talked most of the way. I, being an early riser and too noisy, learned about my sister’s morning routine. And we had fun, except for that one morning. (I learned to be quieter!)

I wouldn’t have traded the experience for anything! Driving through two days of downpour, almost running out of gas, the precious newborn, the walks through Boston, the once-in-a-lifetime lunch. All of it is treasure!

The second call was different. The road trip was short enough to do in a day, but long enough to make it difficult. This one was tricky; the “official ask” didn’t come. I made the assumption I wasn’t needed but took it back when a voice whispered, “Would you write about finding your family without leaning in here?” No. No, I wouldn’t. We padded the trip with a relaxed evening, knowing a long day waited on the other side of sleep. An evening, a long day with a mission, and driving home overnight. That’s an opportunity to get to know someone.

This trip was different: there were moments when it was just two sisters, and then there was extended time with a third family member I spend no time with. And it was all really good, as tough as the trip was. We were short on time and long on miles. The weather would shift, but it was tough to know how and when. Add snow to the end of a long drive, and it just wears on a driver. We did it, though. And for me, finding family on this trip was about little conversations in pockets and longer conversations when the hours crawled.

I wouldn’t trade the road trips for anything. I learned shared experience isn’t completely shared. The caricatures I held in my mind cracked, and pieces began to fall away when I understood my sisters’ perspectives. The relationships between us have been shifting for years—they still need tending to grow—but I can see and understand why things became tense and how they can become healthy. I simply agreed to a couple of road trips.

Share the best me with family.
In less than a month I’ll celebrate one of those birthdays—you know, one where the math gets really simple to calculate the age. *wink* I’m not that little girl running after my sisters’ crowd anymore. My legs aren’t too short—they touch the ground when I’m standing, and I can wear four-inch heels. My natural, metallic roots were given the freedom they always wanted. I’m more comfortable in my own skin. (It’s about time!)

I’ve learned lessons in this stage, and each one is precious! This one (presenting my best self with family) was harder. In order to do it, I had to offer the real me, something JEN-uine. I can’t be on a hunt to find my family without offering authentic me.

Families may play a wicked game of “best self” with overdone, fake, cleaned-up images. No one is interested in that, but authenticity and vulnerability only happen in safe places. That means listening more than speaking, noticing more than ignoring, and validating more than preaching, teaching, or explaining. And then there’s taking ownership of the “stuff.”

The “best me” gets real and accepts all the ridiculous shortcomings.
The third call was hard. I dialed a sister who had to be deeply wounded by my words and actions. I was aware, and I wanted to try to repair. It was a good conversation. There was the initial brush-off that can happen when one asks forgiveness, but I pressed in gently. I asked about the pain and emotions connected to my words and actions. I apologized. We both cried. I found family in another way.

We lose relationships over years of disconnection. Ignored hurts are relational landmines, and those are only deactivated in quiet, intimate, carefully-selected moments. Beneath the rubble of a harsh past lies a potentially beautiful future for family. It takes time and intention.

Friend, I don’t know your story—but we have been placed in families, and it can be amazing and wonderful and challenging (and downright hard!). Have you gone looking for your family? Do you know them? Really know them? I find the search to be tough when I haven’t taken time to listen, notice, and validate; but it’s really rich when I do.

Thanks for reading all these words, friend! I’d love to know more about your own journey to finding family. Will you comment below or the Facebook Page?

P. S. Check the comments for additional thoughts on finding family from me!

Connection and Correction: Life Lessons from a Control Freak