I Talk to Cows

When Ben and I first looked at our house in South Carolina, we were thrilled to see we had no back neighbors ... unless you count the cows in the leased pasture behind our property. 

Most of the time, the cows are on the far side of the pasture, but when they are done grazing that part of the field, the rancher will head them over our way. We were thrilled yesterday when we saw the cows walking our direction. It's a strange hobby, I know, but looking at the cows has become a beloved pastime for me, my husband and our dog Joey, who immediately starts getting excited if we even say the word "cow."

Upon seeing my Facebook post about "our" cows' return, someone asked me if I ever mooed at the cows, and if the cows mooed back.  I replied that yes, I had tried mooing at the cows, but they just stood there looking at me like I was from outer space. 

My friend suggested that maybe the cows didn't understand me with my Louisiana/Texas accent, and maybe I should try again. So today, as Joey and I walked over to the back fence to say hello to our bovine friends, I let out a couple of moos. Same response. Given that they have a rancher, they know what humans sound like, and most humans don't moo!

The truth is, I don't talk like most humans, even without mooing. There is a reason I write, and that's because, unlike with talking, I can edit my words before they are published. 

Speaking is just not something I do well, as I've learned over the years. It either takes me 10 minutes to tell a "short" story, or my foot-in-mouth (FiM) disease kicks in and my words come out terribly wrong. In both cases, the response is similar to what happens when I moo at cows. The recipient of my conversational faux pas just stares at me, speechless, or just walks away while I'm still in mid-sentence. 

FiM doesn't just limit itself to my verbal interactions, either. Never is it so obvious as in a Facebook or group text message exchange where everyone else's comments are liked or "hearted" and mine gets no response whatsoever. Dang it! I did it again! I think to myself, wondering how I could have reworded my comment to come across kinder, more supportive or just any other way than I did to elicit the blank stare that I can't visually see but can definitely feel.

Praise God, I met the man of my dreams 12 years ago and discovered that not only is there a kindred soul here on earth who actually gets me (we are, in the words of Dr. Seuss,  compatibly weird), but he has taught me something really valuable in the art of conversation. It's called listening. 

Introverts like Ben do it well, but for me, listening has been an acquired skill I had to work at. Growing up in a family of talkers, I was literally told by my dad once not to wait for someone to ask about me, but to just speak up if I had something to say. So we all tended to talk over each other and competed for air space. Not great conversational training. 

After years of FiM, feeling awkward and insecure, I have learned that listening has some real benefits. 

If I ask about you, I can steer the conversation away from me. There are some aspects of my life that are hard to talk about, and sometimes it feels a lot safer to just listen to you than to risk going into the details of my messy life. 

Listening also lets me get to know you better, something that's not going to happen if I am telling one of my long-winded stories. I may not always have the right response on the tip of my tongue, but trust me, I hear you and I feel your joy and your sorrow. I am not a self-described "empath" but I do have a lot of empathy and truly love to celebrate other people's happiness and cover people with prayers, encouragement, and practical help when they are going through a hard time.

Finally, my sweet husband has taught me that words are not the only way to express myself. There is a whole book written about love languages, and "words of affirmation" is only one of the five. I have learned to use ❤️ and 🙏 emojis when words don't come to me in text. In person,  I've learned that a smile or a hug can speak a thousand words that would come out jumbled if I tried to speak them. With Ben, there's even an extra love language called chocolate, which is even more powerful in the form of a York Peppermint Patty. 😊

It can be challenging to talk to people if you don't know their personal communication style well, or if they don't understand yours. It can end up being as frustrating and fruitless as mooing at cows. But every now and then, I get it right and "click!" connect with another person I really like. Then all the effort feels worth it. It feels like ... talking to cows.

Do you ever struggle to communicate what you're thinking or how you're feeling? What strategies do you use to better communicate with those around you?