Season 15
|
Episode 2
|
Run Time: 42:50
Download our Healthy Communication Guide
Season 15
|
Episode 2
|
Run Time: 42:50
Have you ever said something true and still felt like it landed wrong? Or gone completely quiet in a hard conversation because you needed to think it through before you said a single word? Candace Cameron Bure and licensed therapist Jason VanRuler are back this week, and they're talking about two of the five PATHS communication types: the advocate and the thinker. What comes through in this conversation is that it's not enough to know what you want to say. You have to understand how you're wired to say it, and what the person across from you needs in order to actually hear it.
Advocates lead with what's fair, what's right, what needs to be said out loud. Jason shares a story from a soccer game in London: a stranger cut in line in front of him, and he wasn't going to say anything about it. But the big guy next to him in line couldn't let it go. He wasn't even the one who got cut. He just couldn't watch it go unaddressed. That, Jason says, is the advocate. They've often seen people go unprotected. They know what it costs when no one says the thing. And so they say it.
Proverbs 27:5 grounds the whole thing: "Better is open rebuke than hidden love." Candace opens up about her own advocate score, the highest on her assessment, and a real conversation where understanding that wiring helped her explain herself in a way she hadn't been able to before. She needed the truth behind what happened before anyone moved on to the fix. Not because she was being difficult. Because that's just how she's built. "Truth is most important to me," she says. "I can't have it glossed over."
But the advocate's growth edge is real. Jason calls it bedside manner: the packaging. Truth delivered without care for how it lands is like an Amazon box thrown at the front door, he says. Same item inside. But there's a difference between that and the tissue paper, the bow, the whole experience. The advocate has to learn that truth only changes someone's life if they're able to hear it. And if the delivery makes them shut down, it doesn't matter how right you were.
Candace walks through what happened when her own advocate wiring ran into a peacemaker in her life. The peacemaker moved straight to fixing. She needed the why first. Neither of them was wrong. They were just speaking different languages. And that's the through line in everything Jason is teaching this season: knowing someone else's type doesn't just explain the conflict. It gives you a way through it. "Oh, they just wanted to make everything good and right right away." Once she understood that, the whole thing made sense.
The thinker is the person who goes quiet before they go anywhere. They're running everything through an internal filter: Is this accurate? Does this make sense? Is it worth saying? Proverbs 18:13 puts it plainly: "To answer before listening, that is folly and shame." The thinker takes that seriously, sometimes to a fault.
Candace smiles as Jason describes it, because she knows it from the inside. At work, when things get stressful, she goes completely internal. People around her start checking in: is she okay? She's fine. She's just thinking. Jason talks about where that pattern usually starts, often in school, in those moments when you had to stand up in front of the class and get it right while everyone watched. The stakes felt high. So you learned to process everything before you opened your mouth.
Jason's own marriage is the honest version of what happens when a thinker and a feeler try to work through conflict without understanding each other. His wife is an advocate-thinker. He's a harbor. She led with logic. He led with feeling. Round and round, neither one hearing the other. What finally changed it was simple: one of them goes first and names what they need. "I need you to hear how I feel right now." Then the other person can say, "Okay, here's what I think." It's not magic. It's willingness. And Jason says the minute you lose willingness, you're in trouble. That's the thing worth protecting.
The episode opens with a listener question from Mary about keeping your cool with little kids, and Jason's answer reframes the whole thing. He used to see his kids as obstacles to getting things done. Then an older man at his Bible study said something that shifted everything: "Isn't it so amazing you get to teach your kids what it looks like to be an adult?" He went home that day and went, I'm a teacher. Not an endurance athlete. A teacher. And teachers give grace to people who are learning.
He also talks about his boredom binder: an actual running list of life skills he wants to teach his kids before they turn 18. How to ask for what they need. How to say no. How to stand up for their faith when it costs something. How to walk into a stressful room and still be okay. When the kids say they're bored, he opens the binder. He's not waiting for the perfect teaching moment. He's making one.
Candace connects this to her sister, who homeschooled five kids and had what looked like the patience of a saint. Her secret wasn't that she never got frustrated. It was that she treated every moment as a teaching moment instead of an interruption. She slowed down. She let the messy parts be part of the process.
Listener Lucia writes in about family members she can't handle for more than five minutes. She prays for grace. She tries. But the bitterness follows her home. Jason's first move is to commit to reality: they're not going away, and they're probably never going to be your best friend. So stop expecting them to be. Then, he says, figure out where they can show up and succeed. What lights them up? What are they actually good at? Give them a place to bring that. Jason does it with his own family, calling a relative to help with repairs not because he needs the help but because he wants to give them a moment to feel worthy, needed, wanted. It doesn't make them your best friend. But it changes the room.
Next week: the Harbor and the Spark.
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