She Never Stops Talking

Sometimes when Matt is home for extended periods of time, as he was during the week of Thanksgiving, he has the opportunity to notice new things about our children. Not that he isn't connected to them - he is an amazing, hands-on, intentional dad, but the fact that he spends much of his time at work means that there are little "joys" his misses out on. 

One of the little "joys" he misses most of the time is the opportunity to spend long periods of time in the car with our kids. (I attribute Matt's perpetual cheerfulness to this fact, but that is another story...) Over Thanksgiving, however, Matt spent all kinds of time in the car with our offspring, and he was stunned by the number of times Sophie said "Mama..." Now, she said it no more and no less than she normally does, but the fact that Matt was in the car and I was talking, or trying to talk, with him seemed to highlight how often the word that has become my name was uttered.

Sophie has always been a communicator, but the volume of words coming from her sweet little mouth is reaching an all time high. She longs to be involved in every conversation, and if I am telling Matt about something, she interrupts, wanting to retell every detail she can possibly remember. If she doesn't have the whole story straight, she says, "Mama, you tell the beginning and then I will tell the end." She isn't exactly a human tape recorder, but her comprehension of meaning and emotion is astounding. She can cut to the heart of a matter whether it was explained to her or not. And she loves to recount events and then discuss the life out of them. 

A monologue isn't enough for her. She longs for conversation - back and forth. If we happen to be low on drama, she will happily create a scenario for us to talk about or ask me to tell a story from the past as fuel for conversation.  Even when playing alone, she plays with multiple characters or dolls, and they are regularly involved in dramatic exchanges. She thrives on the give and take of words and ideas.

The rare times Sophie has fallen asleep in the car, I have known without turning around or glancing in the mirror because if I haven't heard her voice in around 45 seconds, she is out. We really don't have to check to see whether or not she's fallen asleep at night because if the tella novella that goes on in her room is over, she's in dreamland. 

Now while I love this aspect of my daughter's personality, I (actually being an introvert who enjoys quiet time to think) sometimes grow weary of words. I am embarrassed to admit that more than once I have begged her to be quiet. Even more than desiring quiet, I sometimes grow weary of participating in conversation - I can take hearing the talking, but having a meaningful response is more draining. I have often looked at Matt at the end of a day and remarked, "No, really, she never stops talking." But that isn't entirely true...

As I've written before, Sophie only fully reveals herself to those with whom she has a trust relationship. She can actually be downright shy until she feels comfortable. And really, as much as I sometimes feel that I would enjoy moving to a monastery and taking a vow of silence, I am actually so thankful that Sophie values communication and feels comfortable to talk about anything and everything. I feel even more thankful that the person she wants to talk about anything and everything with is me.

I know it won't always be this way. At some point, she won't talk all the time. There will be things she won't tell me. Stories she won't want to retell. Conversations she won't want to have. Right now, she is in that blissful stage of girlhood where she rightly believes she is beautiful 

and loved. She wonders if she just might actually be a princess. She won't always believe this, but for now, she is satisfied to create rescue scenarios because she has not yet experienced the actual need.

Her longing for rescue reveals itself in interesting ways, especially as she relates to males. A few months ago at church, she saw a potential "rescuer" who has a bit of a hot and cold relationship with her. I watched as she nervously, but purposely went and greeted him, temporarily  overcoming the shyness that she feels around those she isn't sure she trusts. I also watched as he completely ignored her - intentionally, maybe even getting a bit of pleasure from it. Before my eyes, her heart was broken. She actually burst into tears. (Oh, how I wanted to right that wrong for her, but that is another post...) 

One of her earliest experiences with rejection, and her first instinct was to retreat into herself. She didn't really want to talk about what had happened. We assured her of our love and her worth and all that parents say to princesses when the prince turns out to be a frog. She was able to put in words, "he hurt my feelings, he's a rude boy, etc." She was able to tell Daddy and Patti-Grams the story, feeling less hurt each time she told it. Thankfully, we were able to engage her - to keep her talking, but I know that deeper hurts are coming and the temptation to withdraw will be even greater.

I can't prevent Sophie from being wounded, but I can help her process her wounds. One of the major modes of processing in our family is conversation. We talk out problems, and words of Love and Truth help bind up wounds. As much as I would like to protect her, the wounds will help her realize that she does in fact need a Rescuer and that He must be stronger that me or her dad. I want her to keep talking to us, and when she comes to the point where she can't or won't talk to us, I want her to realize that there is Someone she can talk to. And oh, how talking to Him will help her process the wounds... Oh, how His Words will bind them. Whether she is in conversation with me or with her ultimate Rescuer, I pray my little girl never stops talking.