If I were keeping a running list of things people told me I should do in a given week—which surely I would not do, because that doesn’t sound like a healthy choice, but let’s just say IF—that list would be as long as my twelve-year-old’s hair. Twelve-year-olds can grow hair longer than they can reach to brush. I would not be surprised if I woke up tomorrow and her hair was down to her knees, long enough to tuck into the tops of her boots. And my list would be longer than that.
A stranger on the internet thinks I should read the new novel she loves, and I am sure she is right.
Some of our friends are hosting a dinner, and there’s still space around the table; they think Dane and I should join them.
The ads on my phone tell me I should see a new movie I’ve never heard of (not to mention buy a sundress and a new necklace to wear, and then stop for coffee afterward—my phone can give me a whole evening plan in one scroll through Instagram).
I’m never going to get to all the shoulds because, for one thing, the space-time continuum does not allow for that possibility. Even if I could, most of those things will not actually make my life better or happier or simpler or more fulfilling. But I will still investigate every single one of them, because should feels like an assignment, and I have always been a good student.
I’ll even research things I already know I don’t want to do. Someone could say to me, “Instead of bathing your children, you should really have them licked by goats,” and I would sit down and research all the reasons that goat spit is not a substitute for baby soap, just in case it ever comes up in conversation again.
This could be a full-time job, and it’s not even a job I like. Or get paid for.
I know that every person you meet has something to teach you, but maybe that’s not the same thing as letting someone assign you a research paper every time you meet up for a cup of chai.
I’d been hearing “you should . . .” and thinking it was a list of things to do. When I started listening, though, I discovered that’s not what it was at all. When someone said I “should,” they were really trying to tell me something about themselves, something about what they choose or what they love or what they want to see in the world.
When I heard “you should,” sometimes it really meant “I love,” or, “I want to.” Or sometimes it meant, “I’m being brave and trying something new, but I feel alone and I need support.”
“You should read this book,” meant “I love this book.”
“You should try the cheese,” meant “I think it’s tasty.”
“You should take this class,” meant “I like the idea of this class.”
“You should take that leap,” meant “I dig calculated risks.”
“You should come, too,” meant “I am nervous about going.”
“You should check out that new gym,” meant “I want to try that new gym, but I’m afraid or I’m stuck or I think I’m not the kind of person who checks out new gyms, but maybe if we both do it, I will be more comfortable.”
Yes, sometimes—coming from people who know you well and are always and forever for you—should means something else, something like, “Here is a gift that will make your one and only life even more marvelous.”
But most of the time, when someone says, “you should,” I’m convinced they are not trying to make me a to-do list. They’re giving me a message about their own feelings, and all I need to do is listen.
Listening—to myself, or to whomever is talking—is a sign of respect. It’s a very quiet way of saying you are loved.
There’s no love in chasing down all the shoulds. When I do that, I haven’t really seen you, I’ve just let you knock into me, your kinetic energy sending me off in a new direction. But I am not a ping-pong ball, and your should is not a paddle trying to smack me onto a new path. And if I listened to myself more, I might feel less obligated to chase everything someone else thinks I should chase. If I spent more time listening to myself, I might know if a thing was right for me without having to investigate it at all.
When someone says, “you should,” I am trying to hear, “share my joy.” If that doesn’t work, I try to hear, “please encourage me.”
“You should” isn’t about me, it’s about them.
I don’t have to do anything at all. If “you should” is about the other person, then just listening is enough.
I can say, “I want to hear more about that! Tell me everything.” I can listen. I can just listen. It’s so much simpler than I thought. My real assignment is to listen, to learn, to love, and to make my own best choices by knowing myself. That’s it. That’s all I need to do.
I don’t have to feel guilty. I don’t have to explain myself. I don’t have to research anything. I don’t even have to pretend.
I can say to the woman who thinks I should try the cheese samples at the grocery store, “It’s good, huh? It looks really good,” and then we can both move on with our lives, shining a little brighter because we connected.
Taken from by Copyright © 2019 by Melissa Camara Wilkins. Used by permission of Zondervan. www.zondervan.com.
