I know this will be shocking to you all but . . . I like to talk.

In fact, it seems like I’ve always got something to say. A way to relate to whoever is talking. A quick bit of advice that’s helped me along the way that just must be shared. Reassuring someone she’s not alone and it’s perfectly normal to feel like running away sometimes.

But. (You knew that was coming, didn’t you?)

I’m learning something here: God has recently been telling me to hush.

Especially in my marriage.

You know what else? I love to analyze and smooth every single disagreement out. I want to get to the root of what’s really going on and work through it so we can all just move-on.

I know this sounds like the healthy thing to do and sometimes it is – but not always.

My old self did think we needed to hash-out every single little squabble and get to the root of why he insists on leaving protein shake canisters on the counter when I’ve incessantly expressed my need for visual peace – a peace not marred by those ridiculously large monstrosities of plastic.

But sometimes? There really isn’t a deep-rooted issue that needs to shake-out.

Sometimes, it just is what it is. (Deep. I know.)

Not to mention that beating everything to death can be exhausting – for the listener. It’s a breeding ground for exasperation.

Yes, there is stuff that needs to be discussed. Just not every little thing.

You know the verse in James, the one where we’re told to be slow to anger, quick to listen, and slow to speak? That one convicts this girl’s heart more than any other verse in the Bible.

Because here’s the thing: I’m pretty quick to anger and I’m even quicker to speak. Not to mention the listening thing hasn’t always been my specialty.

And it’s not just the tough issues that can lead to too much talking, either.

I can tell when Jason’s reached his threshold of verbals for the day: glossed over eyes. Grunts of half-listening at the right places. A sheepish grin that says “I love you and I care about you but I need to sit in the quiet for a minute and process.”

I married a man who’s a thinker. I’m a microwave; he’s a slow-cooker. If something comes up, I’m quick to think it over, pray, and get down to the business of solving it. Within minutes.

Not Jason. He simmers . . . and simmers . . . and simmers.

But you know what? The man is wise. There really hasn’t ever been a time when he’s led us astray – and we’ve had to make some hard decisions.

So I’m trying to be more of a slow-cooker. Less talking, more listening, praying, and just being. Being a microwave isn’t bad but like anything else, the sweet spot is in the middle.

These days, I’m praying for wisdom – wisdom to know when to speak and when to stay quiet. Wisdom in knowing when God is nudging me to be an instrument or when He’s asking me to just pray and trust Him to do what He does best. Wisdom in knowing when my words will help and when my words will hurt.

Something tells me He’s been waiting for me to do just this for quite some time now.