Share Keep It Shut

In your anger do not sin: Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold. Ephesians 4:26–27

I wrestled with several plastic grocery bags as my purse swung wildly from my shoulder. I was trying desperately to free up a hand to open the back door that leads from our garage into the kitchen. Tired from a long day of errands and appointments, I just wanted to get into the house, put the groceries away, and then collapse on the couch.

As I fumbled with my keys and stepped up onto the landing that leads into the kitchen, I nearly tripped and broke my neck. I also broke out into a horrible rant as I saw the reason for my near trip and fall.

“Kenna! Mitchell! Spencer! You kids get out here right now and take care of these shoes and boots. I am sick and tired of how you all just toss your shoes here with absolutely no regard for what I’ve told you. You know your shoes go on the rug. I don’t want to ever see this junk lying here again. You hear me? You are all so lazy! Now I said get out here … right now!”

My kids heard me all right. So did half the neighborhood.

I have a major pet peeve about the shoes, sports cleats, boots, and flip-flops that collect in our garage. First, I’d prefer that each family member have only a pair or two there. (That day there were about nineteen, and only four were from my husband and me. The other fifteen or so were from our three darlings. Yes. Crunch the numbers. That’s five pairs each!)

I also prefer that shoes be lined up neatly in a row on the lovely industrial rug that is strategically placed just to the right of the landing for my clan’s convenience. I’ve even timed out how much longer it takes to actually place said pairs of shoes neatly on the rug instead of kicking them off haphazardly. Just three seconds!

But my kids couldn’t seem to get with the program and so? It made me angry. This wasn’t the only time a domestic dispute broke out. There were other shouting bouts as well. Sometimes they were over issues of outright disobedience when I had specifically instructed a particular child to clean up a mess they had made. Other times it was over an accident: spilled grape juice on the light-colored carpet, too much laundry soap in the new front-loading washing machine, a screen door left open and now there were mosquitoes in the house. Many normal mishaps of childhood.

Although on the one hand it felt good to vent my anger, on the other hand it made me gulp in guilt for barking so angrily at my sweet children. Later, after the shoes were straightened and some even put away, I felt God tap me on the heart, prompting me to apologize to my kids. I fought it for a while, arguing that the kids were the ones who should be apologizing to me.

It was then that I felt God clearly say, “Mind your own sin, sweetheart.”

Ouch. Yes, my kids’ disregard of instructions wasn’t right. Children should obey their parents (Ephesians 6:1). But when they don’t? Well, I couldn’t recall a single verse that then grants parents the right to holler and scream, giving all of the neighbors who were trying to eat their spaghetti supper both dinner and a show.

I apologized to my kids that night before they went to bed. I asked them to forgive me for my angry mama mouth. Then together we strategized about how we could remedy the whole footwear fiasco in the garage. I realized that part of the reason I was always badgering my clan to get with the program was that there was no good program for them to get with in the first place. The industrial rug just wasn’t cutting it. So we cut the rug. With a trip to the department store and some nice wire shelves, we found a solution to the footwear conglomeration.

We compromised. I didn’t get my entire desired neat-as-a-pin plan, but the modified version still worked better than the industrial rug. As a result, I no longer badger my poor kids about their shoes. My vocal cords aren’t so sore, and the neighbors can now enjoy their dinner in peace.

And I learned that day a very valuable lesson…

Don’t say something permanently painful just because you are temporarily ticked off.

Do you see a man who is hasty in his words? There’s more hope for a fool than for him” (Proverbs 29:20 HCSB).

My family calls me the gap filler. I’m not sure I’m too keen on that nickname, but I guess I earned it fair and square. For as long as I can remember, I have loved to talk.

“Karen is a delightful student,” my teacher exclaimed as she visited with my mother during those parent-teacher powwows. “But she does seem to have a tad bit of trouble listening. Especially when I am talking.” I just couldn’t seem to keep my little jaws from flapping. I simply had to add my two cents’ worth. Whenever there was a gap of silence in the teacher’s speech or another student’s comment, you could count on me to fill in the gap. (And I’m sure, in my defense, I felt that what I had to say was way more interesting than whomever else was talking at the time, including my instructor!)

It always bummed me out when my teacher reported that I didn’t listen so well and that I talked too much. But it didn’t bother me enough to motivate a change in my behavior. I liked filling those gaps. And, to tell the truth, I still do. When a group of people is chatting and there is even a small lull in the conversation, if I am not intentional about reining in my tongue, I will rush right in to fill that gap and fill it good.

Now … my husband says my ability to talk is what first attracted him. He loved how I could work a room, making the shy ones feel included. I could converse with the college president and yuck it up with the grocery store bag boy all in the same afternoon.

Yep. My college sweetheart loved how I could talk. So this rather shy guy bought a ring, slipped it on my finger, grabbed my hand, and off we proceeded down the church aisle and into marital bliss. My proficiency at all things linguistic hadn’t bothered him before. In fact, he felt it was an asset. I talked and talked. He smiled and listened. And it really didn’t seem to bother him.

Then, about three days into our honeymoon, he had this thought: “When is she ever gonna shut up?” In fact, if I make it to heaven before he does, he’s decided just what should go on my tombstone:

A period.

Ask him why and he’ll declare, “Well, she’ll finally be done yakking!” (He insists my language has no periods, just commas, colons, and semi-colons because there’s always more to come!)

In a group Bible study or a visit with friends over coffee, I can easily monopolize the conversation. And, in the early days, I didn’t even know it was happening. I just assumed everyone was as dazzled by my words as I was.

I’m not sure how I was first enlightened, but I soon came to discover that often when I was talking, other people in the room were mentally checking out. Or I noticed there were other women in the Bible study or the playgroup who never seemed to give their two cents’ worth. I just couldn’t figure this out. Didn’t they have anything to say? Didn’t they have something to add to the discussion?

Eventually, I came to realize that perhaps the problem wasn’t with the other people in the group. Gulp. Maybe I was too ready to jump in the minute there was a gap in the conversation. Maybe the other folks needed a pause or two for their thoughts to gel before they could speak them. And maybe, just maybe, if some of us who talk too much would actually zip our lips a minute then these people could have an opportunity to speak up more often.

I knew that things were going to have to change for me if I wanted to use my words well and shed my habit of gap-filling. In fact, over the years I have given myself a few tools to help in this endeavor.

First — a little rule of thumb (or rule of tongue, perhaps). I only chime in, or respond to the question thrown out by the study leader, about every third time I think I have something to say. And you know what? It comes out just about right, and no one seems to suffer from not hearing the nuggets I withhold.

This practice also works–pause before you pipe up. It works in a group. It also works one-on-one. When the person with whom you are chatting takes a break in their speech, it doesn’t always mean they have finished their thought. They may still be composing the next sentence in their mind. When we take their pause as a green light that it’s our turn to talk, we may actually be interrupting instead. No, not in a rude way–interjecting mid-sentence–but by butting in before they’ve finished their thoughts. Pausing for a bit before we pipe up can help us be both courteous and understanding.

A person who seeks not only to listen but to understand as well is rare — a treasure. And rare treasures are not only hard to find. They are priceless.

We can become such a valuable in the life of those around us when we make listening and understanding our aim.