Earlier this week, I was dreading going to get two of my kids new passports. Getting a child’s passport is one of my least favorite jobs as an adult. I understand why the process has to be so tedious and regimented, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

I have been lectured more than once when I showed up for a passport application appointment missing some crucial piece of documentation. It put me right in the place of a disobedient child, feeling chastised and frustrated with myself for not doing better.

When I headed to the passport appointment for the kids, I was carrying all the dread of those previous encounters with me. I was anticipating getting “yelled at.” I had a folder with all my information – birth certificates, notarized forms, applications, photos, blank checks, photocopies of ID’s, checked and double checked to make sure nothing was missing.

I was sure everything was in order, but I was also sure those other times, and see where that got me? Being publicly chastised in a post office.

I arrived ten minutes early for the appointment, which if you know me IRL, is unheard of. We were greeted at the door of the passport application room by a man, who let us in. The volume of his voice was just above the level where you would need to strain to hear him.

His tone was soft and gentle. He led us through the entire process without raising his voice once. Despite his soft voice, I never had to ask him to repeat himself.

When we left the post office, we’d successfully submitted two passport applications. I hadn’t forgotten anything. And the man who had helped us had taken me from a 9/10 anxiety to a 1/10. Just with the tone of his voice.

I was reminded how much tone can make a difference in how your message is communicated. This is something I’m still learning – I’ll often find myself modulating my volume in real time when I realize I’ve raised my voice and then consciously start bringing it back down.

How you speak can turn any exchange from a borderline confrontation to the equivalent of what I thought was an oxymoron – a stress-free passport application appointment.

When I climbed back into the car with the kids, the radio was playing a meditative melody between two news segments. My brain was nearly floating as we pulled out of the parking lot.

How do you typically communicate? Where is your volume? What kind of emotions animate your voice? Have you ever felt someone else’s voice bringing you back down from an anxious spiral, or seen your own voice calm another person?

I often use my voice to calm my patients, but it’s harder at home with the kids because we are together SO MUCH. My nerves get raggedy and I respond to them less than graciously. The passport appointment was a reminder of what an effect we can have – even on a stranger in a public place – by using a soft voice to communicate.