“Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.” ~Jesus
Have you ever had a moment when words “slipped out” before you could stop them?
Standing amidst the wreckage of hasty speech I would do almost anything to stuff them back inside.
I like to pretend that I didn’t mean what I said. I like to imagine that the words don’t reflect what I really feel.
Read the rest here: Words Matter
The morning Dominic ran ahead to Heaven, after I made the awful phone calls I reached for my journal.
I knew if I didn’t start spilling the grief onto paper my heart would explode with sorrow.
Since I learned to hold a pencil I’ve been writing.
It’s how I sort my thoughts, figure out my feelings and express my heart.
A few months after and I found several online support groups.
There I learned a whole other Language of Grief and Loss. The more I read what others shared, the better I understood my own experience and understood how to communicate that truth to others.
You might not keep a journal or write poetry or craft lengthy essays about your pain and that’s just fine. There’s no magic in written words.
Find a safe space or person and speak it aloud.
Sorrow unspoken swells.
It can’t be contained.
It will absolutely consume you.
There may be some mamas that don’t drill this into their children but if there are, they don’t live south of the Mason-Dixon line.
Every time there was back and forth in the back seat or on the front porch and Mama overheard, we were told, “If you can’t say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all.”
Parents weren’t interested in policing every errant word out of the under 18 crowd’s mouth back in the day.
It was a simple (and effective!) rule: If what you want to say does not meet the criteria of T.H.I.N. K. (true, helpful, inspiring, necessary, kind) then
Read the rest here: If You Can’t Say Anything Nice….
As a counterweight to yesterday’s post, I wanted to share this one.
While I am a huge advocate for not flying off the handle (I repeat that here), I am also an advocate for speaking aloud things that need to be said.
I want to create a safe space where friends and family can share what’s on their hearts without fear of my reaction or recrimination. ❤
Someone commented the other day on my post, Shadows and Celebrations, that they thought my child’s remark was selfish.
I countered that I didn’t think so.
Instead, I thought it was honest.
Of course my heart hurts any time I’m unable to meet my family’s expectations, but that doesn’t mean they should refrain from sharing them with me.
One of the things I’m learning in this Valley is that I must make room for observations, for sharing, for venting and for genuine conversation. It’s the only way any of us are going to survive.
I can’t pass judgement on every word spoken.
I needn’t assume responsibility for every unmet expectation.
I don’t have to fix every situation.
Sometimes we just need to give voice to something. Because when we name it, when we share it, when we speak it aloud, it often ceases to have power over us.
Secrets drive hearts apart.
Sharing draws them together.
Even when what’s shared is painful.
This time of year all the package handlers are busy dropping off the bounty of online shoppers’ purchases to millions of doorsteps around the world.
It’s a wonder that most of it arrives on time and in good condition.
I suspect though, that you, like me, have gotten one or two boxes over the years that arrived dinged and damaged, battered and broken.
While it can be a real hassle to get the product replaced, it’s usually only a matter of time before a brand new “whatever” arrives.
People aren’t so easily mended, though.
And I think we forget that.
People are more fragile than they appear. Words are more piercing than we realize. We should add in an extra notch of kindness and gentleness whenever we can.
I have friends that take more care with their smartphone than with their spouse or children or parents.
Things can be replaced. People can’t.
Mass produced consumer goods-no matter how expensive or treasured-are worthless compared to a heart.
In an age where clicks and phone calls make it possible to fix so many things, they are rarely helpful in fixing relationships.
“Special Handling Required!” should be plastered across every human’s forehead.
People are irreplaceable, fragile, beautiful gifts.
More valuable than anything we could ever buy. ❤
In this journey of loss I have been blessed and wounded by words.
I have been encouraged and disheartened by stray comments. I’ve been thrown a lifeline and pushed under the raging waves of grief by friends, family and acquaintances who often had no clue they were doing either.
Our words matter.
Our tongues have the power of life and death.
Read the rest here: Bridle your Tongue
We don’t mean to speak words that echo like a whistle in an empty auditorium.
But we do.
We open our mouths and pour out platitudes because that’s what’s been poured into us.
But we need to stop. We need to listen.
And then we need to respond to the heart that stands before us and not to our need to shut down and shut up and shut out another person’s pain.
It’s hard to choose compassion. It’s hard to lean in and listen well. It’s hard to let our hearts get all tangled up with someone else’s when we could just walk away.
I am well aware that you have a life of your own full of drama, daily duties and demands. I don’t want to drain you dry.
But I might need just a moment of your time and a bit of your courage to make it through my own darkness and despair.
One REAL word.
“I’m sorry. That is awful.”
“I hate that you have this heavy burden.”
“How can I pray for you?”
“I don’t know what to say, but I want you to know I’m here and not going anywhere.”