Today I learned a hard lesson — one that I feel like I’ve learned a thousand times over. I wish I wasn’t so stubborn. But for whatever reason, I haven’t let it sink in: let my words be few.
I’m a total chatterbox. I love to talk, laugh and crack witty jokes. I wasn’t built to be alone, silent or kept on a shelf. Recently I was told to speak less by someone at work. I really didn’t mind hearing it, because in my quiet moments with God, I felt Him reminding me that he gave me two ears, but only one mouth for a reason.
I wasn’t always like this. In fact, as a youngster, I was terrified of social interaction. I had panic attacks when my mom asked me to make a phone call. It wasn’t until age 27 that I didn’t mind walking into a public place by myself. I was shy and introspective, like any good writer.
As I crested toward my third decade, I gained confidence and eschewed shyness. My poor fiance listens to me babble on and on all day long. I text, post, call, speak, write, sing and I do it all “on steroids.” Somewhere in the middle of all this, I began to feel God softly whisper, “Let your words be few.”
So I’ll speak when spoken to, and when needed for routine discourse at work. Unfortunately, I put this into practice a bit too late. I trusted the goodness of someone who used my honesty to mock me. I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt, but I’m choosing to not be a victim in this situation. I could have spoken more cautiously, with a filter, instead of rambling on with specifics about my life.
After two days of speaking less, it’s amazing what I’m hearing. I get a whole lot more done, and I don’t feel so exhausted at the end of the day. God’s voice is suddenly a lot louder, too.