Over the sound of running water and clanking dishes in the kitchen, I could hear my children discussing something as they cleaned up dinner. Their tone told me something was being debated.

My husband and I paused the conversation we were having in the other room to listen in and decide whether we needed to intervene or let them work it out.

We didn’t know the specifics of what they were arguing about but the tone told us most of the story. Our youngest had started to explain something, but he didn’t tell the details exactly right. So his sister helped him be a little more accurate. But that still didn’t suffice for the oldest brother, who then edited the story again to his specifications.  Well, that in turn left Zach, who started the whole thing, feeling frustrated and deflated. It was like he needed to defend himself, his story and his right to tell his story his way.

All this from a tone.

Through my son and this situation, I recognized a fear I can struggle with.

It’s the fear of not being heard. Or of being heard but misunderstood.

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