The Voice You Hear

She has crossed the finish line for the last time this season. Her goal was to run the mile under 6 minutes. She ran it at 6:03. She was not happy. Personally, I think anything less that 45 minutes is stellar.

Once her sweat dried off and we were home, she talked about her race. I could see her mentally reviewing things in her head. So I asked her, "Do you hear me when I am screaming for you while you're running?" From the sidelines, all I can do is cheer her forward. Race after race. Week after week. There I am, yelling at the edge of the track.

Until I asked the question, I hadn't stop to consider if she could actually hear me. Maybe runners get in a zone and tune everything out. Who knows. She considered my question before answering. She told me that she could always hear male voices, just because they are louder. But then she turned to me, her head tilted to the side while she thought. "You", she said. "I can always hear you".

I've thought a lot about that declaration over the last week. I've pondered what it truly means. Above the chaos and the other voices that surround this girl, she can still hear me. So what am I choosing to say?

Words have power, I think we tend to forget that. In truth, I most often feel like my kids don't hear any of the words that come out of my mouth. Their brains are set on mute mode. That's just the norm. Mom speaks, children ignore.

But, what if that is just the outside picture? What if that is just the way it appears, but not the way it really is? What if every word spoken makes its way inside, burrows down deep and layers itself next to all the others?

What if we start to use our voice with the knowledge that it will be heard? Every time. Every word. No matter the noise that surrounds you. It just might change the things we say.

A small voice won't travel far. Your voice needs to leave the sidelines and make it all the way down the track to the runner you are cheering for. Sometimes, that's a great distance to reach. So you better use your best voice and your strongest words. Every race. Every time.

You.
I can always hear you.