My son has a pretty significant stutter.
He has had a stutter since learning to talk, and while sometimes it is almost non-existent, most days it is fairly present. And sometimes it is so bad that it takes a full minute to get out one sentence. Speech therapy has helped a little bit, maybe; it’s hard to tell honestly. Stuttering is such a specialized but also underdeveloped area of study that most therapists don’t really know how to help.
I’ve done a lot of research to try and understand how to best help him at home, and by far the most prevalent piece of advice for parents of stutterers is to listen.
And not just listen, but actively listen. Maintain eye contact, don’t finish his sentences. Stay with him until he completes his thought. Speak slowly when you respond to model a calm, unhurried manner of speech.
Let me tell you, I want to do this every time. My heart hurts when the stammering stretches out a ten word sentence into a minute-long struggle. I would trade places with my son in an instant if I could. But, let’s be real…my patience doesn’t last as long as I would like and sometimes it takes a forcible effort to listen closely to every stuttered syllable, especially when I know what he is trying to say. It would be easier just to finish it for him and save us both some time and effort. But I know he needs to have the freedom to express himself, however long it takes. And I have promised him I will always listen, no matter how long it takes.
Knowing how hard he has to work for those syllables is teaching me to be a better listener.
In relationships, I’ve often found myself to be on the listening side. Now sometimes it truly is because someone has sought me out to listen and perhaps give some advice (it’s the pastor’s wife thing to do), but sometimes I think it’s my personality. When I was in grade school, I was often the one who listened to the other little girl in class cry about her spelling test grade, the boy who didn’t like her back, the fear of playing dodge ball during P.E. (who can blame her for that one?). I remember an elementary school classmate told me that I was a good listener. I think it’s because I listen better than I talk. I would rather be quiet than to speak aloud about how I feel. Which puts me in the position of listener, by default. And that’s okay, most of the time.
I don’t mind listening when someone needs to be heard.
But, I’m learning to actively listen, not just absorb. Anyone can absorb. But what people truly need is active listening. Maintaining eye contact, not finishing their sentences (even in your head because that will cause you to miss the words that actually come out of their mouth), letting the other person say what they need to say, and not formulating a reply while they’re still talking. But after they’re done, asking questions related to what they shared, probing when necessary, rewording their thoughts to make sure you understand–these things show that you are engaged in the art of listening.
We all have those relationships where our every attempt at conversation gets hijacked by our “listener” and turned into their conversation. You know how it goes. You bring up something you need to talk about, need to verbalize–and if you’re like me, it costs you to bring up those things because you’re not a talker by nature–but then your listener inevitably derails the conversation by taking your words and personalizing them, making the thing you shared a jumping off point for all the things they need to talk about. Not surprisingly, the things you wanted to say are completely lost in the other person’s profusion of words.
I can honestly say this is a regular struggle for me. I am less transparent in person than I used to be (a decade of ministry can do that to a person), so when I do make the effort to speak up, I want to be heard just like any other person. But my propensity to not speak (my fault, I realize) when coupled with the stronger, more vocal personality of a friend actually prevents me from being heard sometimes. My words get swallowed in someone else’s troubles.
This happens so frequently that I can almost pinpoint beforehand the moment in a conversation when it will turn. I have learned to just accept it, but I sometimes wonder if that’s the helpful thing to do. My husband tells me that if I never speak up and communicate that I need to be heard, then I will forever have my conversations derailed by the other person. I get what he is saying, but it goes against my nature to do this, which leaves me in the netherworld of quietness in my relationships. Again, my fault if I don’t speak up.
Unless I get up the nerve to voice these things in person, I need accept that it puts me in listening position every time. And for now, I’m okay with that. Listening to my son is teaching me to do that better all the time. If someone needs to feel heard, I want to provide that place of hearing for them.
But, ironically, I need to learn the art of speaking up if I want to be heard.
That’s much harder for me than listening because it’s risky. And I struggle to take the risk with spoken words. The pen will always be easier for me.
-gm
Glenna Marshall is married to her pastor, William, and lives in rural Southeast Missouri where she tries and fails to keep up with her two energetic sons. She is the author of The Promise is His Presence (P&R) and Everyday Faithfulness (Crossway), and Memorizing Scripture (Moody). Glenna is the social media manager for Practical Shepherding Women. Connect with her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.