Speaking the Same Language

I had a real light bulb moment the other day. It was almost as if I could feel the space above my head glowing, the realization was so powerful. And it almost crippled me, when I realized how blind I'd been to my situation.

I have 5 boys. Our house is loud and chaotic all the time... but ironically, all of my boys do so much better with calm and quiet. They are a sensitive lot. They need a lot of gentleness and affection and care.

What I realized, is that they don't need me to preach at them 24/7. And it's not like I actually do that but I probably do more than I mean to. Especially to the teenagers. And further, I realized that my constant preaching does nothing to bring calm and quiet to my family.

My oldest is 16. And I so desperately want to instil in him all things good. I want him to know God and even more, to love Him. I want him to show kindness and compassion to those around him. I want him to be a leader and a follower and do both gracefully. I want....and therefore, I have huge expectations. And apparently I take full advantage of the preaching moments too.

But what the lightbulb moment showed me, is that he and I are not speaking the same language. He speaks teenage boy. I thought I was almost fluent in teenage boy, but as it turns out, I'm nowhere close.

I speak 41 year old mom. And it's completely different. And now I feel a little foolish for not realizing this sooner. And I'm feeling even more foolish now that I know what would change if I had clued in to this language situation earlier.

I would have showed, instead of spoken. I need to sit with that for a while. Because that statement, as bad as the grammar may be, is kind of devastating to me.

I would have showed, not spoken. I would have showed him what compassion and kindness looks like, instead of explaining it to him. I would have showed in what effort looks like, instead of demanding from him. I would have shown him love instead of yakking away about how much I love him and therefore have all these desires for him.

And I desperately hope that I do show him those things, and I know that I do... but not in a way that replaces the need for verbal language. Not in a way that replaces my need to constantly talk him into whatever it is that I want for him. That's just my own anxiety showing.

And my anxiety makes it so that I can't understand teenage boy. Even if I get out the dictionary, I'll never understand it if my anxiety is present. Just like he'll never understand 41 year old mom.

I did apologize to him... in as few words as possible. Simply that I had thought and said some things that may have been confusing... and that while it was not my intention, it was the reality. He didn't get it. Because it was still in my language. The apology was for my benefit but I wanted to at least acknowledge that I was aware of...something.

So now we get to move forward. And I get to show up in the way that I'd wanted to and intended to all along - with the gentleness and affection and care that my kids thrive under. I get to show those things. And I know that there will be words along the way but they will be gentle as we each learn words from the other's language.

And I'm excited to be with him. It's scary to let go of some of my own values for him but it's scarier to think that I'd push him out of my life by not taking the time to understand him... on his level. I do have wants and dreams for him, he's my little boy. But he's also my big boy... and he's got his own wants and dreams too.