listening.

 {from here}

I try not to get mushy very often on the blog, mostly because I am not, by nature, a mushy person.

But every so often, I do like to record — for posterity’s sake — the things about my husband that make me do a happy dance inside my head.

Like that time we went on a lunch date (which are probably my favorite. oh, and breakfast dates) and I spent most of the time catching Jordan up on funny stories — or stories I considered funny. (Because, let's face it, one can never be entirely sure if the anecdotes you find hilarious are as hilarious to others.)

I laughingly told him about crazy Bible class teachers and the time I was asked where the local adult novelty store was located (and, yikes, I knew the answer). I told him about my thoughts on The Bachelor and what it’s like to have back-to-back sleepovers with your favorite fuzzies.

And after he dropped me back off at work, I realized that maybe I had talked the whole time, and maybe I had been a conversation-monopolizer (which can happen to the best of us, am I right?). So I sent him an email, letting him know that the only reason I can be over-zealous in my storytelling is because he is really, the world’s best listener. (It’s one of the things that makes him a great attorney.)

This is the email I got back:

I love being your audience. Here's to 90 more years--and millions more stories worth--of my being your audience.

I don’t know. Probably to you it doesn’t sound that great. But it sounds good to me. It’s nice to know that you’re not overwhelming or irritating, that you don’t talk too much, and that someone on this earth is ready and willing to listen to your crazy stories for days and years to come.

It’s a good feeling.

So here’s to finding that person, and to being that person for others. Because, I think most people are just looking for an attentive audience. And what’s wrong with listening for a change?