I went through a very hard season my junior year of high school. I felt betrayed and abandoned by people in my life that it had never even occurred to me could betray or abandon me. It left me questioning what I believed about God, the church, and relationships. Basically, it left me questioning everything. And it felt like all the attempts that adults made to fix the situation just kept making it worse.
I also went through my first real heartbreak that year. I was essentially a ball of words and emotions at all times.
We had youth group on Wednesday nights, and it became the trigger point for everything I was thinking and feeling. I was deeply committed, but it felt hard and complicated and often painful.
My dad would pick me up from youth group. I would get into our ancient pea-green Oldsmobile, and he would ask “So, are we taking the long way home tonight?”
My parents live about two minutes from the church, but there were nights where we got home a solid two hours after youth group ended. I would talk and my dad would listen. Sometimes he would ask questions. Sometimes I would cry. I don’t remember much about what took place on those rides, but I know I never felt rushed. I know I had permission to think and feel whatever I was thinking and feeling.
I’m a parent now, and I think back and wonder how my dad did it. I know he had so much to do, and he must’ve been tired. I know how easy it can be to want to rush my own highly verbal children through their stories…and I may have been the most verbal adolescent in the history of the world.
But still there was that gift, that open ended invitation to take the long way home.
When I reflect, I can see how many powerful moments of healing and clarity have come from people who extended that offer. Who were willing to see and hear and process with me, who weren’t rushed or ready to be done. People who asked for the details and gave me space to process. Something sacred and beautiful happens in that space.
It’s why “tell me more” is one of the most important phrases I know.
I want to hold that kind of space for people. I want the people in my life to know that they are a priority, that their stories and words and emotions matter to me. I don’t want to live rushed or distracted, too busy to be with the people I am with, too scattered to fully enter into the lives of others.
In order to make this happen, we need the mindset and the space. We need to hold fast the priority of people, and remind ourselves in our thoughts and communication that people are our priority. We need to be attuned to the needs of the people around us, and ready to listen when they need to share.
We also need to create margin in our lives so that we can make the invitation. We need to be willing and prepared to put some tasks on hold and to release some of our agenda. We need to be sure that we are putting down our screens, turning off Netflix, and extending invitations.
I’m still in the car seat stage of parenting, but even still, I know I can offer the long way home. I can be mindful to use phrases like “tell me more,” and “what else?” and to ask my kids’ thoughts, feelings, and opinions.
I want to offer them the long way home, in as many ways as I can.