Saturday, November 11, 2006

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell

I am quite sure it has gotten worse since we moved to the farm. In fact, I can hardly remember anything more than a rare occurence when we were city-folk. And it never happened at an innapropriate least not often. Things are definitely regressing.

I am a very visual person. I can perfectly picture house plans in my head, and paint colors on walls. As Mr. Visionary gives me driving directions, I visualize that blue house on the corner of Fifth and Main and that certain  oak tree that was struck by lightening back in '92. During any conversation with any person, I create mental images of the topics discussed. It is a very useful skill.

Unless it happens while I am attempting to ingest food.

Let the record show that a farm is a bad place to be a 'very visual person'... especially with a passel of homeschooled children around. They are encouraged to seek, find, explore and generally take dominion over the farm. As long as their finds do not take dominion over my house, I am usually happy. It is the vivid re-creations at dinner that get to me...

'Tell her how he ate the head of the mouse first!' 'No, tell her about how  Buckwheat fell in the...' 'And then, Mom, we found this weird egg that was...'

I try remember to stop what I am doing, give my full attention and actually listen to the children when they want to talk. Sometimes I am even successful. I am truly working on this area of listening-truly listening. I know what a blessing it is to the children to share their heart with me, so I keep at it. Although the visualizing of these stories could be a great weight loss program, I feel rather justified in just tuning it out. Thanks, thanks.

'Whatsoever things are lovely...think on these things', that's my motto.

I tell you what...I won't ask...and please, please...don't tell.

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