I leaned against the doorway of the kitchen as my mother washed the dishes, chattering on about my school day. But mom had no use for third grade anecdotes; she turned her head toward me and with a sneer on her face said, “You talk too much.”
Bam! A lump the size of a grapefruit formed in my throat. My chest tightened and tears threatened. Taking my cue, I left the room. The serpent took his cue and echoed my mom, “You’re stupid and uninteresting.”
Some of my soul withered that day.
At the tender age of 8, I stopped sharing my life with mom, and became very guarded about what I shared with others. That pattern continued well into my adult years.
But everyone longs to be heard. Including me. To be heard is to be valued. To be heard is to be validated, significant, esteemed. To be heard is to be loved.
And then . . .I found a way to be heard. It was quite by accident.
In high school, we had a choice between doing a science project or oration. I hated the thought of a science project; I chose to read a poem instead. How hard could that be? For the first time in my life all eyes were on me, all ears were listening, and they liked it. They liked me. Whoa! What a powerful feeling! My withered soul expanded a bit.
Some years later I joined Toastmasters (a communication and leadership development club). I earned every certificate they offered and received their highest honors. Trophies, ribbons, newspaper clippings, and plaques all whispered in concert, “We like listening to her, we like what she has to say, we like her.” Validation. Significance. Love.
It’s been twelve years since my Toastmaster stint and I no longer have an interest in public speaking. What? Yep, you heard it, no real interest in being a public speaker. What happened? Jesus happened. He showed me that my public speaking ambitions were all about that little girl leaning against the doorframe, wanting her mother to be interested. Wanting her mother to value her and love her.
Jesus revealed that terrible lie Satan planted in my heart; the lie I agreed with. He spoke truth to me, “Kinsey girl, I’m terribly interested in you. You are my treasure. I want to hear all about your day. Everything about you matters to me.” He wiped my tears; I leaned back against His chest and exhaled. I was home. Validation. Significance. Love.
So dear coaching friends, our last class stirred up these thoughts in me when instructor Ann with an “e” asked, “What does it feel like to be listened to?” Answer: It feels like home.
It feels like home.
May we become His ears
and create a place where people dare to believe
that they are valued, significant, and loved.
A place that feels like home.