I was a pretty good kid. My greatest fault was my mouth. Not the shape, arguably, but the use. I just couldn’t keep it shut. There was something percolating on the inside at all times and it just had to get out. Words. And they always bid farewell to my mouth at the worst possible times. You know how most people think something, but there’s this tactful voice on the inside that says, “Now’s not the time for that.” Yeah, my voice on the inside had laryngitis.

However, over the years I’ve mellowed. There aren’t as many things up there rapping on the door to get out. Still plenty, but not as desperate to be heard. I’m sure some of my friends would argue, but they wouldn’t have known me as a kid. I had to be heard. I read once that we all mature into introversion. Some of us just have a longer journey. A Pilgrim’s Progress.

A study came out a couple of years ago that said that women had a larger amount of Foxp2 protein in their systems. This protein has a connection to chattiness. According to the survery, women speak on average around 20,000 words per day while men speak closer to 7,000. Maybe I had some extra Foxp2 laying around unused when I was younger, but it’s not there anymore. It was handed down through heredity to my two daughters. Every ounce.

They talk.

Like, they talk a lot.

I’m quite certain that they’ve been mainlining Foxp2 for years. Addicts.

Addyson talks about details. She came to me the other day and asked, “Dad, do you want to hear what kind of cake that I have planned for your birthday?” I looked up from my book as she anticipated a yes from my eyes I suppose. “It’s going to be a three layer cake. I’m thinking red velvet which is your favorite. Do you want butter cream or cream cheese icing?” I think I blinked. “Cream cheese of course. No one eats butter cream with red velvet.” Then she began to describe the design. I would tell you about it if I didn’t check out around the types of icing tips that she would use for the bottom of the first layer. I woke her up a few mornings ago and she opened her eyes and said, “Wanna hear about my dream? I was in an alternate universe…” And we were off. No warm up, no prep, just go.  She talks cake design, party favors, dreams, cheer routines, types of formations, musicians, friends’ drama, books- she doesn’t know what a synopsis is, Dance Moms, clothes, shopping, movies (and through movies- she commentates because who wanted to hear the actors anyways), you name it- she uses her words.

Carsyn uses her words in a different way. She’s inquisitive and thoughtful. Easy answers don’t suffice. Fairness is the Golden Rule It won’t be long until she puts God on the witness stand and has Him answer for the injustices of the world. We had a crazy conversation the other night. “Some kids called me and the other girls lesbians today at school and it upset me.”


“Because they meant it ugly and it hurt my feelings.”

“Are you?” I asked.

“A lesbian? No.”

“Then why do you care? You know the truth so why does it matter?”

“Because it hurt my feelings.”

Then I tried to use dad logic. Not worthwhile most of the time with Addyson, she needs to be felt, but Carsyn processes differently. “It’s kind of like if someone called you a mean racial slur. Would that hurt your feelings?”

And my 11 year old out logic-ed me. “No dad. You see, I’m not black or Hispanic or Asian and will never be. I can’t be. I can’t change into something that I’m not. So that wouldn’t hurt. But I could be gay- it’s possible. And so could one of my friends. So, it hurt my feelings.”

And that’s our conversations. Deep thoughts from an eleven year old. Questions about her mom. About the possibility of the future and her career. Her college. Scholarships. Marriage. Children. Fears. Joys. She uses her words.

There are these words that have to come out. They are tempered by personality and experience. And I have to work hard to hear all of them. It’s obvious that I don’t use as many as they do, but I also have a hard time hearing as many as they use. But I focus until I go cross-eyed sometimes. A half dozen classes in counseling and psychology didn’t prepare me for this. And I wasn’t born with the gift of listening like their mom was. She could feel and empathize with every emotion. She could infer what wasn’t there and intuit what was before it was even said. You could see it in her eyes. She laughed when someone laughed and could release a tear as soon as the person across from her began to weep. She would have won a gold medal in synchronized crying. She would have laid in bed with the girls for hours talking about life, listening to middle school gossip, and stifling drama. We would have rarely used the radio on road trips. Every family fun game night would have been hijacked by conversation, which is probably the point anyway. And she and I would have partnered to be the best hearers ever. If I’d only known that she would lose her words so soon I would have listened more, concentrated harder, focused better. I would have filed some of them away in a drawer for a rainy day. Shoulda, coulda, woulda. Today, I just miss her words.

11 Comments for “Words”

Roger Gaddis


Jeremy, we all have our shoulda, woulda, coulda moments. You remember my first wife, Frannie – Joe’s mother. She had Alzheimer’s Disease for over seven years. I cared for her at home. When God lovingly took her home people told me I should have no regrets. But there were those shoulda , woulda coulda times. God is merciful and has given me another godly woman who is now my caregiver.


You have me from laughter to tears, yes, I am like Tiff, I cry if anybody else does. I sympathize with you about the girls, I am mom of three, and I sometimes would zone out, also. Hopefully they never knew, I think I grunted and smiled or frowned at the appropriate times. Treasure those times of chatter, they may reach an age where they no longer share all these things with you.
Thank you for sharing your journey with us. You are doing a great job caring for Tiff and the girls. May God equip you with whatever you need to continue.
As always prayers for you and your beautiful family.
Mrs Betty Shubert

Christina Orsborn


As the mom of a boy who NEVER stopped talking (sometimes I thought my ears would fall off) I understand, but then they grow up and move away and you wish you could hear them talking.

Graham Brown


Boss man the idea of things your wife and you are going through is foreign to me. I am however a father and husband and to that I can relate. If you ever need some place to hang out with a different view then you know where we live. Bring the whole family. My kids would love others to play with and Charity and I love company. You don’t even need to call beforehand. That offer will always be open.


Jear-Bear…I’ve spent much of my life pondering words and the spaces in between, embarrassed by all the times I cut people off because I like to talk “along side” instead of listening first. 🙂

Still, I can’t write my kids’ dialog, which means you must be doing a good job listening. Thank you for reminding us of how precious words are.


Michelle Sorenson


Jeremy, your posts always touch my heart. I pray for your sweet wife. All I can say is treasure every moment. I know you do. You carry a heavy load and I pray for you too and those precious kids of yours. Hang in there.

Peter Samuel



As a dad of a 14 month old whose words are screams and shrills, not listening is something I’m trying my best to learn! But your incite as to the later years, and to not take the conversations for granted, pearls…just pearls. Honestly, I’m kind of getting a dad tutorial handbook for girls from reading some of your posts. I appreciate it more than you might know, but in the same regard, feel the pain that you feel as a husband. I can’t imagine going through what you have had to go through, but know, and I know you probably hear the cliche line all the time, God is giving you a strength and refinement that not many have. A silent, yet powerful, weapon, that is not created with words, but one that is created with fire and pressure. We will definitely keep all of you in our prayers.

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