As leaders, we’re taught to listen.
Not just to the words people say, but to the concerns behind them. The hesitation. The excitement. The frustration. We learn that behavior often communicates more than conversation ever will.
I’ve found that’s just as true at home.
One of my sons developed a habit in college of experimenting with his hair. First it was black. Then blonde. Then pink. Then gray. Every few months there was something new. I have to admit, it was fun to watch. Each new style reflected another season of discovering who he was becoming.
One day he posted a video on social media that made me stop scrolling.
The prompt read: “POV: What do your parents say every time you change your hair?”
I smiled before I even pressed play.
The video wasn’t dramatic. It was simply a collection of screenshots from text messages between my husband, me, and our son over the years. Every time he sent a picture of a new hairstyle, my husband would respond with something like, “That looks good,” or, “Turn your head—I want to see the back.” Sometimes he would ask questions about what inspired the change. Because of our schedules, I usually joined the conversation later with a phone call instead of a text.
One of the comments on the video made me laugh.
“Where’s your mom?”
His response?
“Wait…my mom usually calls me.”
That simple exchange made me smile because it was true. That’s just how we’ve always connected.
Then I kept reading.
Comment after comment came from young adults saying things like, “I wish my parents were that supportive,” and, “Mine would never let me do that.”
As I sat there reading those comments, I realized something.
This wasn’t really a conversation about hair.
The Conversation Behind the Hair
Our son wasn’t preserving screenshots because we approved of every hairstyle. He saved them because every new version of himself was met with curiosity instead of criticism. He knew he could explore, experiment, and express himself without wondering if our love or support would change.
It wasn’t about hair.
It was about feeling seen.
As I reflected on that moment, I realized we hadn’t arrived there by accident.
In many ways, his oldest brother, Malcolm, had prepared us for it.
Malcolm had a way of teaching us to look beyond appearances and see the person underneath. Losing him changed our perspective in ways I couldn’t have imagined. It reminded us how precious relationships are and how quickly seasons can change. It also helped us distinguish between the things that truly shape character and the things that simply reflect personality.
Hair Wasn’t the Conversation
Hair wasn’t the conversation. It was the communication.
As leaders, we often say we need to listen beyond the words.
At home, that might be even more important.
Sometimes a child isn’t asking for permission. They’re asking, Do you still see me as I’m becoming who I am?
Sometimes a spouse isn’t asking for a solution. They’re asking, Do you understand what I’m carrying?
Sometimes silence speaks louder than conversation.
Sometimes independence is really confidence being tested.
Sometimes frustration is exhaustion.
Sometimes the behavior we’re tempted to correct is actually an invitation to connect.
Listening for What Isn’t Being Said
The best leaders learn to hear what people mean, not just what they say.
Our families deserve that same kind of leadership.
Listening beyond words doesn’t mean we agree with every decision our loved ones make. It doesn’t mean we abandon our values or stop offering guidance. It means we become students of the people we love. We pay attention to what they’re experiencing, not just what they’re expressing.
That takes curiosity.
It takes patience.
It takes choosing connection before correction.
Choosing Connection Before Correction
Our son’s video wasn’t really a celebration of colorful hair.
It was a celebration of knowing that every time he explored who he was becoming, his parents would still be there—curious, encouraging, and ready to listen.
The people we love won’t always tell us exactly what they need.
Sometimes they’ll show us.
The question is whether we’re listening closely enough to see it.
Previous posts in this series:
From Me to We: Why Interdependence Makes Families Stronger
Before You Feel Seen, See Yourself: Why Self-Awareness Is the First Step to Belonging
