"Do you see a man who is hasty in his words? There is more hope for a fool than for him." (Proverbs 29:20)
My family calls me the gap filler.
I'm not sure I'm too keen on that nickname, but I guess I earned it fair and square.
For as long as I can remember, I have loved to talk.
"Karen is a delightful student," my teacher exclaimed as she visited with my mother during those parent-teacher powwows. "But she does seem to have a tad bit of trouble listening. Especially when I am talking." I just couldn't seem to keep my little jaws from flapping. I simply had to add my two cents' worth. Whenever there was a gap of silence in the teacher's speech or another student's comment, you could count on me to fill in the gap. (And I'm sure, in my defense, I felt that what I had to say was way more interesting than whomever else was talking at the time, including my instructor!)
It always bummed me out when my teacher reported that I didn't listen so well and that I talked too much. But it didn't bother me enough to motivate a change in my behavior.
I liked filling those gaps.
And, to tell the truth, I still do.
When a group of people is chatting and there is even a small lull in the conversation, if I am not intentional about reining in my tongue, I will rush right in to fill that gap and fill it good.
Now ... my husband says my ability to talk is what first attracted him. He loved how I could work a room, making the shy ones feel included. I could converse with the college president and yuck it up with the grocery store bag boy all in the same afternoon.
Yep. My college sweetheart loved how I could talk. So this rather shy guy bought a ring, slipped it on my finger, grabbed my hand, and off we proceeded down the church aisle and into marital bliss. My proficiency at all things linguistic hadn't bothered him before. In fact, he felt it was an asset. I talked and talked. He smiled and listened. And it really didn't seem to bother him.
Then, about three days into our honeymoon, he had this thought: "When is she evergonna shut up?" In fact, if I make it to heaven before he does, he's decided just what should go on my tombstone: A period.
[Read the rest of the article at Club 31 Women.]