Research shows that women use nearly twice as many words as men do in a single day. Estimated numbers vary depending on which website you choose to believe. But on the whole, they all agree that women talk a lot more.
It’s not surprising really. The bigger question, to me, is why do we talk so much to begin with? What in the world are we really saying?
I can’t answer for every other woman, but I think I have determined my own personal “why”… thanks to my brother.
He asked my a rather simple question on the phone last night. “How are you, Mere?” My response took about 7 minutes and never actually answered the question. And with a noticeable smile in his voice, he said “I think you just used a lot of descriptive words to say that ____________.” Sure enough; he summed it up quickly, accurately, and in a way that made more sense. So why didn’t I do the same?
A long time ago, in 8th grade to be precise, my math teacher told me I was stupid because I asked too many questions. In high-school, another math teacher said the same thing. My last math teacher, in college, chimed in that she too agreed with their sentiments about my serious lack of intellect. Needless to say, I believed them.
So I decided that since that general consensus suggested I couldn’t compute, I would communicate better than anyone else. I decided that my vocabulary and ability to articulate would be my way of overcoming my lack of abilities elsewhere. I was determined to prove that I was smart; I wasn’t stupid. And if nothing else, my verbose intelligence would be what people noticed about me.
Now years later, I’m finding that even in conversations with my own brother I am striving to impress him with lofty words and really abstract metaphors. Why? He wasn’t the one that said I was stupid.
I don’t know that I have completely figured it out yet, or pieced all the puzzle pieces together just so, but I have a general idea of why. I haven’t fully accepted that I am who God says I am; that I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I wasn’t a glitch in the cosmic system. I was intended, purposed and equipped to do what no one else can do. What that is exactly is still a little fuzzy, but this I know– it’s not math. Someone else got that gene.
He says I am loved with an everlasting love. That I have been made holy, set free, and proclaimed righteous because of the cross of Christ. I am who God says I am.
That is reason enough to know that I can do what I am meant to do.
And you are who God says you are. Just right, the way you are. On purpose.