You guys,
This week I learned that keeping my mouth shut has its benefits.
We hosted Sam’s family for Christmas. Sam’s mom asked what food they could bring and we told them. But the day before they arrived, we found out they were bringing much more than anticipated.
I’m all for extra food at a party, but we had been planning and coordinating with his parents for weeks. To show up with extra meals without so much as a text felt like what we had planned was not good enough.
I didn’t want our two days with his family to be ruined over it, but it felt like a good opportunity to have a hard conversation and set boundaries. So what would I say?
I thought of the perfect thing just as Jan and Hank arrived, but when they were out of earshot Sam said under his breath, “Don’t say anything.”
What?
“Don’t say anything. I’m going to handle it.”
I reluctantly conceded, mostly because there was no time to disagree.
After lunch, we sat around the table and Sam broached the topic. He said he appreciated them bringing so much food but also, next time, we would appreciate more communication about specifics.
Jan scoffed, “But Sam, we always bring lunch.”
I felt myself ready to pounce, ready to explain to my MIL why she was wrong, but stayed quiet.
Sam further explained that we take pride in hosting, and he would think they’d understand that because they hosted Christmas for years. He reiterated it was fine to bring everything they brought, we would just like to know about it.
Jan nodded along and agreed, and then there was a pause.
In that pause, I suddenly became aware of how that pause made me feel. I didn’t like it. Pauses make me uncomfortable. They feel awkward. I like to fill pauses with words. Preferably my words.
But I promised Sam I wouldn’t say anything. So I zipped my lips and embraced the silence.
And then the silence was over. Sam steered the conversation in another direction while I was still thinking of something smart and important to contribute.
I thought I was going to regret not saying anything. Instead, I felt relieved I didn’t fill the silence with words even when I had nothing to say. Sam said he was going to handle it and he did. Anything I had to add would have just been repeating what Sam had already said.
Silence can feel uncomfortable but sometimes it’s necessary. And maybe if I shut up and speak less, people will be more inclined to listen to me.
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Until next year,
Charlie
Silence is golden. You got it.
Silence opens up the flywheel too listen in and pickup an ocean of ideas!