(Joyful Mysteries: I’m sure I wrote about this similar topic months ago- but writing daily and reliving experiences puts this on my mind again.)

Words.

We use them everyday. Lots and lots of words. 

We use them to greet each other, we use them to silence each other. 

Sometimes we speak without words…but they are still there. The words we aren’t speaking. 

Words can bring us hope, they can fill our days we good news…

“You got the job.” 

“You are beautiful.” 

“Thank you so much.” 

“It’s a healthy baby girl.” 

And they can be filled with knives that jab and cut right to the heart.

“Your story isn’t relevant.” 

“I hate you.”

“I’m done. We’re done.” 

“I’m so fat.” 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t find her heartbeat.” 

How often have I heard of excuses people make for words they use to harm others? If there’s one thing that gets a rise out of me is lack of accountability for words.

“I was in shock. I’m really young. I didn’t realize they would take me seriously. Well, it’s NOT my fault she got offended.” 

If you used them. Own your words. 

All these words upon words. 

We use words to be passive aggressive. 

We use words to bring clarity. 

We use words without thinking. 

I am an overthinker of words. I will second guess myself and second guess every single conversation…worried I have offended or hurt someone. It’s why I try not to gossip. It’s why my friends call me the vault- I don’t want my words to perpetuate hurt. I’m not perfect, and I know my words aren’t always either. 

I believe words can wake people up to bad leadership- and shake things up in a good way, but sometimes the most beautiful words are words that tell us the harsh truth even when we’re not ready to hear it.  Sometimes good speakers words aren’t truth led. So those types of courage are hard but necessary. 

In a different way I have been deeply hurt by being the receiving end of gossip- even as much as this past year. And in one instance by someone I trusted. Words about me and my character hurt my soul. 

I still feel guilty years after telling the boys to “Just shut up and listen.” once when they were fighting and I couldn’t get their attention. I still remember the time I told my Mom I hated her- and still feel bad. I still remember the first time a boy told me he loved me. And I still remember the time my (then) best friend called me homely. 

I remember the words my husband said to me the day he asked me to marry him after he washed my feet, “I promise to honor you everyday of the rest of our lives.” 

On my happiest and saddest days  I remember words perfectly. Words woven and binded together, and seared in my soul. 

So why the hell??? 

Why is it we don’t acknowledge or recognize the power of our words…the weight they hold? 

The way they can hurt. 

The Way they can heal. 

I’ve spent a good part of the past year finding words to bring my real today- and I have thought long and hard about if my words will resonate and unify or hurt and divide. 

Yesterday I was asked if I was pregnant. Again.

It must be some sort of sick joke- 7 times in one year. 

It wasn’t by a mean person. But she wasn’t thinking. She didn’t know how I’ve dealt with health issues the last two years. How my self esteem is in negative range. 

When she said it I used my blanket quick response/ the kind of response to not let her know the way the words took me to a place in my mind that hurts…

You don’t look good. 

You look pregnant. 

And you can’t even get pregnant. You’ve tried. 

At first those thoughts told me it was vanity- because I felt pretty that morning. I’m finally getting color back in my face- I don’t look sickly as much any more. My metabolism has started working slowly again. I’ve been making great gains on my health. 

But instead I blinked back the tears and I went on with my day. I Kept pushing it from my mind- Stood up taller, made sure my skirt wasn’t bunching. I can’t change that it happened- it happened. And as much as it hurt I was determined to not let the words define my day. 

I’ll admit they did for a bit. 

But I changed the words in my head. I felt pretty that morning because I feel better. And for right now that’s enough. 

Because it has to be. 

I think of the most brave eloquent women I know. I think of their quiet strength in hard realities, and I think of how much their words help me. Time and time again. 

And they believe my words matter. 

And my God believes I matter. 

My words, my real…need to uplift a God who creates beauty from ashes. 

I want my words to uplift- but also to seek to find the good in life…

On the good days, on the hard days, and on the real days. So maybe the moral is to really consider the intention behind your words. You never really know someone’s real. 

Because when in doubt- know how powerful your words are. To your family. To your children. To your siblings. To your spouse. To your friends. To others.

Sometimes you just can’t go back. 

You can’t unsay stuff.

So say the good stuff. 

All the good stuff. 

The things you think but forget to acknowledge. Those are the words worth remembering. 

Words are powerful, and real. 

Let your words be a gift like your life.