Quiet

I'm a quiet person. There are different types of quiet. Some people speak very quietly. And some just speak sparingly. Only when there is something important to say. I think I'm more the later.

Especially since when I get excited about something, I can suddenly get very loud, and talk very fast. A friend of mine speaks very softly and next to her I feel very loud, very...American. No wonder people think we're loud.

I can seriously go a whole day at work without saying a word. I enjoy it. The people I work with are all big talkers. They talk all day and say very little. It's a good thing I can wear my ear buds all day or they would drive me crazy. Liz, the admin who sits in the cubicle next to me, says her every thought out loud all day. She usually forgets I'm there. One day at lunch I opened a soda can, and she jumped 2 feet out of her chair. She had forgotten I was there and the sound surprised her.

When I was in college, we had these seminar style classes where we would sit around a table and discuss the literature we were reading. The professor would facilitate and everyone would just jump in. I never felt comfortable with that. I would wait and wait for a pause so I could say something. But there never was one. One of my teachers got to know me so well, she knew when I was ready to say something. She'd pause the discussion. Then she'd say something like, Jennifer will now tell us what's going on. And I would speak. Carefully, thoughtfully. There was some pressure. Like I had to come up with some earth shattering insight. But it just worked. She let me participate in my own way.

The pattern continued throughout college and then on into grad school. And in my working life. People think it's because I fear speaking in front of people. But it isn't at all. I was a teacher for 5 years. I've done plenty of public speaking. I just don't feel like I need to be talking all the time. Especially when I have no interest.

But here's some talking I have been doing lately. The missionaries have been coming over to teach me once a week. I've been to church three times. And my visiting teachers Myra and Shawna have visited me once too. The missionaries bring a brother from the ward with them. Mostly it's been Ben who is married to one of the Sarahs who came to visit as part of the Relief Society presidency. He's really nice. And the missionaries are adorable, and so sincere. One of them is just 18 since they are allowed to leave on their missions a year early now. It's been interesting. And emotional. I usually cry. I've also been reporting on these sessions to my therapist. She has been skeptical the more I tell her. I have doubts too. I mean, what do I believe? Did I stop believing all of it, or just some? Can I go back if I'm not all in?

Maybe I just want to go back because of the community. Since I moved up here, I haven't seen many of my friends. I dog sit for John and Pedro pretty regularly, but I usually show up after they've gone and leave just before they return. So it's the dogs I'm spending time with. More weekends without talking to anyone. They did get back early when I sat for them last time. So they took me out to lunch and we got to hang out for a little bit; then I stopped by to visit my parents. We watched the first part of the new Bible miniseries on the History Channel.

But the church thing is going well I think. Still not sure how involved I'll get. But it's nice to have visitors, that I actually enjoy.  Deep, important discussions with nice people. Then, alone again, in the quiet, I try to remember how to pray.