I dropped off my kids at Sunday School and wearily walked toward the auditorium for worship. I was at my wit’s end that day. My toddler still was not sleeping through the night and I was beyond exhausted and feeling desperate. I passed a dear friend in the hallway who stopped and kindly asked me how I slept the night before. As I unloaded on her all the details of how many times my toddler woke up and how rough it’s been, she spoke three words that freed me.
“That sounds hard.”
When she said it, she looked into my eyes with deep empathy and with those words, she acknowledged my struggle and somehow I felt like she joined me in it.
I let out a sigh and felt my shoulders relax. I didn’t realize it, but I was bracing myself for what usually comes when I share our family’s sleep struggle: a barrage of advice. However, she didn’t respond with any sleep advice or recommendations of books to read. She didn’t ask “What’s wrong with your kid?!” (Yes, I’ve been asked that before). She just looked at me and simply said, “that sounds hard.”
As I reflected more on it, I realized how treasured those comments and those friends are in my life. There is certainly a time and place for advice and I have grown immensely as a mom through the nuggets of wisdom I’ve received from friends and family about parenting, but sometimes I just need a listening ear.
I am working on my listening skills too. When someone shares a struggle with me, I immediately go into problem-solving mode. It comes from a place of love – I care about that person and don’t want them to struggle, so I wrack my brain and try to think of times in my life when I’ve had a similar struggle and what worked for me.
Instead of my default problem-solver response, I want to slow myself down and listen more. And I mean really listen. I want to reflect back the feelings they’re telling me and try to ask more questions. Many times I jump in with advice without getting all of the details or even hearing what my friend has tried so far! Before giving any bit of advice, I’d like to ask her, “Would you like some ideas that might help or do you just need me to listen today?”
I hope that when she says, “I just need you to listen,” that I can look her in the eye and join her in her struggle. Sometimes we are so broken down and weary that we don’t have the capacity to try one more thing. All we need is for someone to sit beside us, acknowledge the struggle, and listen.
Photo credit christianyves via VisualHunt.com CC BY-NC-ND
