The Economy Of Words

From all accounts, I’m a talker.

It’s gotten much better as I’ve aged but apparently, when I was younger, I suffered from a near incurable case of “verbalus diarrheus” also known as motor mouth syndrome.

I talked so much that my second grade teacher put me at a desk, all by myself, facing the wall.  There was a map of Cape Cod hanging there that indicated the location of all the pirate ships that are sunken off the coast.  

So then I talked about pirates.

I was a fast talker too.  So instead of sounding like a machine gun (where there is some discernable space between sounds), I sounded more like the emergency broadcast test tone. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. 

Eventually, my friend Peter (I love you Pete!) began to teach me the economy of words.  He would ask me a question and then say, “OK.  You have five words to answer.  I’m not listening to any more than that.”  It sounds harsh but he actually got my mind to slow down enough to think about what I wanted to say. 

It really helped. 

Well, it seems that this disease is genetic because my children, particularly my oldest son, never stops talking. 

I mean never. 

Last night, at two in the morning, we even heard him talking in his sleep. 

Sometimes what he is saying is a running commentary on what he’s doing.  Sometimes he’s singing songs, or books he’s memorized, or making up stories.  Once I thought I heard him reciting the Magna Carta.  It was either that or, after all the talking…the never ending talking….my inner ear was feeding back. 

The interesting thing is this: All of it is meant to be heard. 

He’s talking to Laura and me most of the time.  And so, our home is filled, from sun-up to sun-down, with conversation.  Non-stop conversation. 

Recently, I had to ask him to stop for five minutes because I was tired and my brain hurt. 

Don’t get me wrong. 

I love his little voice. 

When I’m traveling and have to be away from my family, I enjoy the silence, yes, but I can’t wait to get back to “The Conversation”. 

As strange as it sounds, I desperately miss my kid’s verbosity (please note my nice use of the word verbosity). 

When I step out of my fatigue or frustration, when I boil it down, I’m thrilled that they all want to share every little thought, observation and emotion. And I love the fact that, at least for the moment, they want to hear what I have to say too.  Every random fact, or correction, or encouragement means the world to them.

So while the tired part of me longs for the day when, he too, will learn the economy of words, part of me hopes that it’s a lesson he never learns.  Because I know that, sooner than I want, he’ll grow up and stop talking.  And so I hope that before it’s too late, someone invents a “time-freezer-thingy” that will keep him a little kid forever.

I think that’s why Jesus said that we had to be like little children. 

Obviously there are many applications to that verse but I believe this is one of them. 

In light of the command to pray without ceasing, I think that, when Jesus calls us to be like children, it’s an invitation to an eternal conversation with our Heavenly Father. 

It’s a call to constantly share our lives with God in prayer and to hang on every word He says. 

Because, in the same way He calls us to this ceaseless conversation, He is always speaking. 

And so while, for obvious social reasons, it’s often necessary to learn the economy of words, in our relationship with God The Father, no such thriftiness exists.