The Unlikely Messenger: A Slice of Life with Debra Brown
“What’d I say?” my husband Allen asked me.
Ugh.
“I was listening,” I said, aggravated, rattling off verbatim what he’d said while I finished cooking dinner.
I plated our food and hoped he wouldn’t share more of the tedious minutia of his day. I had enough of my own.
I prided myself on multi-tasking. I handled family responsibilities, work duties, freelance projects, and constant deadlines. No matter what, I’d get the job done.
It caused frustration when Allen interrupted with his stories. When busy, I’d learned to spit back exactly what he’d said to keep the peace.
On a call with Mom, I complained to her.
“He tells me everything on his mind, whether it happened in the last 5 minutes or 20 years ago.”
Mom laughed and said, “Your dad is quiet like you, and I’m the talkative one. I’ve learned to pay attention when he speaks because it’s probably important.” She paused. “But I wish he’d share more because it’s a better way for me to understand him.”
“And,” she said, “it’s also important for him to listen to me even though I prattle on about any and everything. He can’t love me unless he listens.”
“But,” I interrupted, trying to avert an oncoming lecture. “I want to hear about Allen’s day, only not when pots are steaming and timers are dinging.”
Our conversation left me unsettled as I ended the call.
By chance, Allen and I attended an out-of-town conference with a session on listening.
The forty-something expert author with black hair and piercing blue eyes commanded attention as he guided us through detailed instructions of a listening exercise.
“Each exercise will last 5 minutes,” the speaker said.
“So, grab a partner. Turn to sit facing each other and hold hands.”
Chairs scraped the floor, and the noise rose, causing the speaker to tap the microphone to calm the audience’s chatter.
“In a nutshell, tune out everyone but your partner. Keep eye contact. One will ask the question without another word until I call time.”
He made a zipping-the-mouth-shut gesture.
“The other person will answer the question, keep eye contact, and say whatever is on their mind until I call time. Then you’ll switch. Got it?”
I looked at Allen with raised brows. He shrugged. The room buzzed with anticipation.
Here’s the question. “What almost kept you from coming to this conference?“
Staring into Allen’s eyes felt awkward, but we squeezed hands to relieve the unease.
“Five minutes starts now,” the speaker said. “Go!”
I repeated the question to Allen.
I said nothing and only listened, albeit struggling to keep eye contact.
As expected, Allen complained about rescheduling meetings to leave early. He admitted it bothered him to miss his weekend workout and golf game, which provided exercise, social time, and stress relief.
I nodded, understanding.
As time went on, Allen surprised me.
“The trip cost worries me while the real estate market is off,” he confided.
He talked about the highs and lows of a real estate career. It led to his sharing strategies for the down times and financial plans for our retirement many years ahead.
As the speaker called time, I thought, “I had no idea.”
During my turn, I squirmed and struggled to maintain eye contact. I gulped and mentioned a few immediate concerns, including being away from our young daughter Meredith.
In time, I blurted out everything to fill the silence: the frustrations, fears, and exhaustion of being a working Mom and wife with no time for me.
Allen looked surprised, but he nodded.
As the speaker called time, I squeezed Allen’s hands and said, “It bothers me that no one ever gets my best.”
The speaker ended his talk with Oscar Wilde’s quote.
“Ultimately, the bond of all companionship, whether in marriage or friendship, is conversation.”
He added, “So it’s important to develop active listening skills to stay in sync.”
After the session, I vowed to hear the words and feel their emotions to have better conversations and improve our relationship.
We’d get lazy through the years and need to reprioritize better listening.
Sometimes, I still had to say, “Let me get dinner finished, and then I want to hear everything.”
When Allen had to ask, “What’d I say?” I’d return to the listening tips and stop, make eye contact, and focus on what he’d said, not just the words.
I’ve also learned to listen to the silence.
Often, words don’t matter. It’s the look on the face, the tone of voice, or the slump of the shoulders. There’s more to the story than “I’m fine.”
Even now, the techniques we learned make it easier to smile, nod, and say, “Tell me more.”
Debra Brown’s motto is “Be the Spark.” She has a passion for family, her 3 cats, flowers, pretty food, and health & wellness. Debra is an author, UGA honors graduate/The Citadel MBA.