I've said horrible, thoughtless things. I've gossiped and lied. I've been loud and obnoxious. None of it mattered, right? I've kept silent through some pretty bad stuff. I've been a locked vault of all my secrets. What good would talking about it have done? If you think no one will listen, if you think no one can help you, if you think that your voice isn't heard and doesn't matter, then this becomes your standard operating procedure.
There is nothing quite like motherhood to dispel the belief that no one was listening to me. All day long, I was with my babies, who grew into toddlers, who grew into preschoolers, who grew into boys. Once each of them began to speak, it startled me how often I heard my words coming out of their mouths. It's simple stuff, like how my oldest apologizes by saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" in rapid succession. Or when the middle child would discover a missing toy and exclaim, "Oh! There it is!" Or when the youngest began starting all sentences with a tongue click and "Sooo..."
Not only do my children listen to me, but they adore me. They think I'm a nurse, a teacher, a sorcerer, and world class chef. They are always shocked and a little appalled when reality messes with their preconceived ideas of my capabilities. (They once asked me if I could make it snow so they could go sled riding. My response? "It's July! Oh, and I don't control the weather.")
This is real love, the kind I have experienced with a handful of people in almost 35 years of life. Love makes you brave. Love says, "You can do anything!" Love pays attention. Love is generous and faithful. It's the way my father makes me feel. It's the way my husband makes me feel. It's the way my sons make me feel. And it's the way God makes me feel.
When things began to shake up in my life (again!), God brought someone new into my life, someone who not only listened, but helped me find my voice.
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