Find a Better Way to Say It

Love, Shelter, Communication, Forgiveness, and the Lessons My Father Left Me

By K. Kirton Niner | DOES THIS HELP®

There comes a time in life when you begin to realize that some of the greatest things your parents ever gave you weren’t things at all.

My Dad was a great man. He tried hard. He wasn’t wealthy, and he couldn’t provide everything I might have wanted growing up. But he gave me love, shelter, and the security of knowing I had a Father who was there for me.

And when I think about it now, I ask myself: Do we really need much more than that when it comes down to it?

Of course, we need food, clothing, education, and opportunities to grow. But without love, what does all that really amount to?

My Father gave me something I have carried throughout my life. He taught me what it meant to be present, even when you couldn’t physically be there.

My Dad Was Always Just a Phone Call Away

My Father was a Truck Driver.

There were times when he was miles away from home, working to provide for his family. But I never felt that distance meant he was unavailable to me.

If I needed my Dad, I could call dispatch. They would get a message to him, and he would call me right back.

Think about that for a moment.

Before everyone carried a cellphone, before text messages and instant communication became part of everyday life, my Father made sure I knew how to reach him.

And he responded.

He didn’t have to be standing in the room to be present in my life.

He was present because he listened, because he responded, and because I knew I mattered to him.

That is what I remember.

Not everything he couldn’t afford. Not every hour he spent away working.

I remember that my Dad was there when I needed him.

Communication Is Something We Learn Through Experience

The communication I shared with my Father helped me understand how to communicate with Hector when I met him and began the relationship that eventually brought me to Arizona.

Life unfolded through a chain of events. Some were wonderful. Others were painful. Some brought me opportunities, and others brought lessons I never imagined I would need.

But I am grateful for my experiences.

Not because everything that happened was right, and certainly not because everyone treated me well.

I’m grateful because those experiences helped shape my understanding of responsibility, relationships, motherhood, and the importance of knowing who I am.

I’ve learned that we cannot control every decision another person makes.

We can, however, decide how we respond, what we accept, and what we choose to carry forward.

Listening Is Not the Same as Hearing

One of the hardest things I’ve experienced in my own family is feeling as though I’m speaking, explaining, and repeating myself without being understood.

And I want to make something clear.

It isn’t necessarily that people don’t care. It’s that they aren’t listening.

There is a difference.

Someone can love you and still fail to listen to you.

Someone can hear every word you say and still fail to comprehend what you’re communicating.

And someone can tell you they understand while continuing to behave as though the conversation never happened.

My Father had expectations. I have those same expectations.

Listen. Comprehend. Take responsibility. Respect the boundaries of others.

I don’t expect everyone to agree with everything I say. I don’t expect my children to become copies of me.

I expect them to think, to communicate, and to recognize that their actions affect other people.

That’s part of growing up.

With age comes responsibility, and responsibility means recognizing what needs to be done.

Love Does Not Mean Surrendering Your Identity

My experiences have taught me that loving someone does not mean surrendering myself to them.

I can love my children without agreeing with everything they do.

I can love my Husband while expecting us to work together as Partners.

I can welcome people into my life while expecting them to respect the boundaries of my home.

And I can forgive someone without giving them permission to repeat the behavior that hurt me.

I’ve lived through relationships that taught me why personal identity, agency, and boundaries matter.

I know who I am.

I am my Father’s Daughter. I am a Mother. I am a Wife. I am a Daughter of God.

And I am my own person.

My faith tells me that we can strive to become like Jesus Christ. That doesn’t mean we become Jesus Christ or take away another person’s identity.

We each have our own lives, responsibilities, and opportunities to learn.

I believe our homes should be places of love and shelter, not places where one person’s voice silences everyone else’s.

That is the kind of home I want to maintain.

Forgiving People Who Didn’t Even Know They Needed Forgiveness

Lately, I’ve been thinking a great deal about forgiveness.

There are people in my life whom I’ve been trying to forgive who may not even realize there was something I needed to forgive them for.

For years, there were things I didn’t say.

Sometimes I remained quiet because I was hurt. Sometimes because I was angry. Sometimes because I remembered that old saying:

If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

But I’m beginning to comprehend something differently.

What happens when the thing that needs to be said isn’t particularly nice?

What happens when silence allows someone to continue misunderstanding you?

What happens when you spend years biting your tongue, only to realize that the other person never even knew there was a problem?

Silence doesn’t always create peace.

Sometimes it creates distance.

Sometimes it creates resentment.

And sometimes it prevents people from learning something they genuinely need to understand.

Forgiveness doesn’t require silence, and speaking the truth doesn’t require cruelty.

I can forgive someone and still tell them what happened.

I can explain how their behavior affected me without trying to destroy their character.

I can acknowledge that someone didn’t understand something while still expecting them to learn from it once I’ve explained.

That is part of communication.

And that is part of accountability.

Don’t Bite Your Tongue. Find a Better Way to Say It.

This may be one of the greatest lessons I’m learning at this stage of my life.

I’m not going to spend the rest of my life refusing to speak simply because what I have to say might make someone uncomfortable.

But I’m also learning that I don’t have to express every frustration in the harshest words available.

Sometimes the message is right, but the delivery prevents anyone from hearing it.

Sometimes we’re so frustrated by having to repeat ourselves that our frustration becomes louder than the point we’re trying to make.

And sometimes we need to find another way of saying the same thing.

Not because the truth has changed.

Not because our boundaries have changed.

But because the purpose of communication is comprehension, not merely expression.

I want people to understand what I’m saying.

I want my children to learn how to communicate with one another.

I want disagreements to become opportunities to understand rather than excuses to stop listening.

And I want to continue learning how to express myself without sacrificing either honesty or compassion.

There’s a difference between saying:

You never listen to me.

And saying:

I’ve explained why this matters to me. I need you to demonstrate that you understand what I’ve said.

There’s a difference between saying:

You don’t care about my feelings.

And saying:

I know you care about me, but I don’t feel heard when my concerns are repeatedly dismissed.

And there’s a difference between saying nothing at all and saying something carefully enough that another person has an opportunity to comprehend it.

We won’t always get it right.

I certainly haven’t.

But we can keep trying.

What My Father Really Gave Me

When I look back at my Dad’s life, I don’t measure his success by what he owned or how much money he made.

I measure it by what he gave of himself.

He worked. He provided what he could. He loved his family.

And when his Daughter needed him, he called her back.

Such a simple thing.

Yet here I am, all these years later, still learning from it.

My Father taught me that communication is an act of love.

He taught me that being responsible means making yourself available to the people who depend on you.

And he showed me that you don’t have to provide every luxury in the world to give a child something priceless.

You can give them the confidence of knowing they matter.

You can give them a place to belong.

You can give them love and shelter.

And you can give them an example worth remembering long after you’re gone.

I miss my Dad.

I miss having someone who understood those expectations because he lived by them.

But I also recognize that his example continues through the choices I make today.

His lessons didn’t end when his earthly life ended.

I carry them forward.

A Lesson for the Next Generation

As a Mother, I want my children to understand that communication is not about winning an argument.

It’s about recognizing that another person has something to say.

Listening doesn’t require agreement.

Respect doesn’t require surrendering your independence.

And forgiveness doesn’t require pretending that something never happened.

We can disagree and still treat one another with dignity.

We can establish boundaries and still love one another.

We can acknowledge mistakes and still move forward.

We can even discover that the person we’ve been frustrated with didn’t fully comprehend what we were trying to communicate.

And when that happens, we have a choice.

We can remain bitter.

We can remain silent.

Or we can find a better way to say what needs to be said.

I’m choosing to keep learning that better way.

Because I don’t want to spend my life repeating the pain of the past.

I want to use what I’ve learned to make the future better.

For myself.

For my children.

For my family.

And for anyone who might benefit from hearing the lesson.

Does This Help®?

My Dad didn’t provide everything.

But he gave me love and shelter.

He gave me his attention when I needed it.

He taught me that distance doesn’t have to prevent communication and that responsibility is demonstrated through action.

And perhaps most importantly, he gave me an example of how to be there for someone.

Today, I’m learning to combine that example with another important lesson:

Don’t bite your tongue just because you have something difficult to say. Find a better way to say it.

Say what needs to be said.

Say it with honesty.

Say it with accountability.

Say it with enough compassion that the other person has a chance to hear you.

And remember that forgiveness, love, and boundaries can exist together.

Because at the end of the day, we don’t need to own everything, control everyone, or win every disagreement.

We need love.

We need shelter.

We need to know we matter.

And we need to learn how to listen to one another.

Thanks, Dad. You gave me more than you may have ever realized.

In loving memory of my Father, John William Kirton Sr., whose love, presence, and example continue to guide me.

Don’t Bite Your Tongue