Listen!

In all my 40 years, I have met only three truly amazing listeners, Kobie, Eliza and Shelby, my dogs.  We all know that dogs are the greatest listeners.  They sense our mood and celebrate with us, let us cry or know it's time to be quiet.  When we ask a million questions they don't try to answer.  When we shout in agony they don't take offense.  They know our shout is not for them, it is to release the pain and pressure trying to drown us.  It's time we should take a few lessons from our best friends.

I was the shy quiet girl in school.  You all went to school with her or you are her. I did what I was expected. I always did my best.  I wanted to please people.  I didn't understand another way.  People rarely noticed I had a lot to say.  When I started to speak, I would be interrupted by someone who had a louder voice.  No one would notice.  I would speak of my profound observations and my friends would look at me as if I had spoken in tongues; teenagers don't think like that let alone talk like that.  I was afraid to be teased or misunderstood or interrupted or simply ignored.  I was teased, misunderstood, interrupted and ignored so I stopped talking.  I became the quiet shy girl.

Today, my words are precious to me.  The energy it takes to speak is valuable, I won't waste it.  I will only share with those who want to hear.  I'm not the type who tells everyone everything or demands that you hear. There is nothing wrong with that.  I love many people who do that, but I can't be that person.  My story is precious.  If you won't hear me, I'll save it for someone who will.

However, because of my speaking precautions I tend to be a good listener.  I will hear you.  I will listen as you explain your day for the third or fourth time.  I will say the correct words and listen to you without interrupting.  I know you want to talk and, if I interrupt with my own story, you will feel hurt and unimportant because I just trampolined off your story into mine.  Since I'm still talking, I must believe that my story is more important than yours.

Perhaps we could all be better listeners than our favorite pets.  What if, instead of simply listening to you, I asked questions to know more?  When you tell me about that great award, I ask what exactly it was for, who gave it to you, how did they present it?  Perhaps I look you straight in the eye and feel your excitement like Shelby feels mine.  On that bad day, when your boss made you feel like nothing, I see you and your pain and am sorry in my soul.  I don't tell you it will be fine.  I don't get mad with you.  I just hear and you know you are not alone.

A family member of mine is skilled at asking those questions.  I remember when he did it in a conversation. At first, I was in awe. He didn't just hear the story, he wanted to know more.  He wanted to understand. There was no pretending he knew what we were talking about, he made us say it all and he listened to every word.  I want to do that better.

I would be pleased if it was said of me, I was a better listener than my dog.