When I was in high school, I remember having to memorize certain things for my English class, at least two of them being lengthy passages from the Bard himself, William Shakespeare. If pressed, there is no way I could recite them now. That being said, I do recall the first line of each of the two passages (perhaps that is all the workers in my long term memory deemed necessary to remember; if this Inside Out reference is lost on you, I cannot recommend highly enough getting a copy of the movie and watching it as soon as you are able). The first, from Sonnet 116, actually floats into my mind from time to time:
“Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments; love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds…”
And the second is Marc Antony’s famous speech from Shakespeare’s play, Julius Caesar, and of that one, all that I can ever recall is the opening line: Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears. This call to listen, to lend me your ears, came to my mind earlier this evening as I thought about how important it is to my teenagers for me to listen to them. To hear them. I have written about this in previous posts, and there I have admitted that sometimes, perhaps too often, I have not always been as prone to listen as to speak, to try and fix their problems. But, I am learning that is not always what they want or even need.
But tonight I was reflecting more on that request Marc Antony makes, friends, lend me your ears. Now, while he has some ulterior motives at play in his request, those words echo in my mind when my teenagers settle in next to me to tell me something that matters to them, whether it’s about a character or story they’ve discovered recently or if it’s a sketch they just finished or if it’s a recollection or something they need to process. It could even be something lighthearted they saw on Pinterest that made them laugh. When they launch into sharing mode, I know I am the recipient of a gift some parents don’t receive and wish they did. Too often I scroll past posts in mama-related groups in which parents lament their teenagers and their attitudes and their reticence and my heart hurts for them.
In recent days I have had the opportunity to sit with each of my teens and listen, to hear about things that matter to them and to learn about projects they are working on. Admittedly, sometimes the temptation is to give only partial attention while I continue to play a game on my phone or scroll Instagram. But I want our girls to know I value them and what they have to say. I want them to see that they matter to me and when they choose to tell me about projects or hyperfixations, I am all in. I am right there with them.
And so I hold those moments gratefully and tenderly within my heart. Always I want to be certain there is more than enough room for these girls and their lives in my life and in my heart. I want them to feel my undivided attention. While I may no longer be able to recite all of the lines of Sonnet 116 or recall more than the opening line of Marc Antony’s speech, I can tell you about my oldest daughter’s dragons and their redesigns and my youngest’s OCs and favorite graphic novels. I can tell you I am grateful for these two incredible young women who willingly share their hearts with mine.