I HAD A good visit with my youngest son on a recent winter afternoon.
One more time I was surprised by the interesting insight that can come out of an eight-year-old’s mouth! And, one more time, it occurred to me that I really need to take the time to listen to my kids. I always learn something!
I am so thankful that, at least up to this point in life’s journey, my sons and I have enjoyed wonderfully open lines of communication. That we can talk with no hidden agendas or buried bitterness is something for which I thank God daily. I’m not naive enough to believe that with little effort it will always be that way. (I know fathers who’ve tried very hard and still not enjoyed this blessing.) Nor am I cynical enough to think that teen years and hormones spell sure death to communication, though they certainly can make rational conversation a challenge.
In my limited experience, two factors are the biggest barriers to genuine communication.
Number One is pride, still the deadliest of sins. To really talk to loved ones, we must swallow the pride that blocks our throats, cuts off communication, and strangles relationships. “I love you” and “I’m sorry” are the phrases that flush out pride and unblock airways.
The second factor is simply this: We have to make time to talk. We may not want a son or daughter to interrupt us and need to talk during our most important meeting, our busiest time of day, etc., but they had better know that they can and that no client or task or parishioner is even nearly as important to us as they are.
Joshua and I had a great talk recently. We were hanging thirty feet in the air on a ski lift at the time. It was sleeting and snowing. We were freezing.
The lift was not moving.
Mechanical gremlins conspired to keep us hanging within easy sight of the top of our slope for fifteen minutes while we sat on icicles. The guy several chairs back who had just bought a lift ticket and had hoped to make his first run of a very cold day was cursing pine trees.
But my arm was around Joshua. We were freezing. But we talked. And for that, I’m thankful. I just don’t want to wait for another ski lift to break before it happens again!