Today Micah started calling me “mom.” No big deal you’re thinking. Yeah, except for it’s just one more reminder that time marches on with me kicking and screaming in its wake. Where did my chubby monkey from yesteryear go? I think we’re going to end up having approximately 14 kids because I am so addicted to the baby stage. Asher kills me all day, every day. I wonder at least 4,098 times a day how it’s possible to be so cute and chubby. I literally can’t take him all in. It’s like I have to look away because he’s too much, only to look back and have my heart slayed all over again.
We love Micah’s age too. He makes us laugh hysterically at least once a day. I’m not sure if you knew this but horses in fact eat peas and eggs and “toas” (toast). Yes, Micah informed us. All this time I thought they ate wheat. Or hay? Actually I’m not sure I’ve ever really known what horses eat. See? That’s what I mean. What would I do without Micah’s knowledge of these things?
I’ve been thinking lately about the power of words. I listened to a sermon by Francis Chan from James 3, which talks quite a bit about it. But I’ve also been thinking about it from an experiential view. I think of this proverb on a regular basis: “There is one who speaks rashly like the thrusts of a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.” – Prov. 12:18
Have you ever noticed that often in the Bible when it speaks of words it personifies them? Rashly spoken words are like a person wielding a sword and thrusting them through you. Um, ouch. I know we live in a tell-it-like-it-is society, but I think I can say pretty confidently that rashly, harshly spoken words are just as painful today as they were a thousand years ago (or whenever this proverb was written). Why do we do that to one another? What if we used our words to bring healing? I’m talking to myself mostly. One of the quickest indicators for me of walking in the flesh and not in the spirit is that I have an edge to my words. I look for those places just unguarded enough for a sword to fit through. And the scary thing about walking in the flesh is that I’m quickly dulled to the Spirit (Hebrews 3:13 tells us that a hardened heart only takes a day) and so often, it’s after the fact, after the damage has been done, that I realize what I’ve done. I hate when that happens. I’ve been trying to learn much of my adult life that silence is often better, especially if I’ve been operating in the flesh.
I woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. Seriously. Somebody needed to put me in a time out from approximately 7:30 this morning until Matt came home. I kept snapping at Micah and being impatient and irritable. But even in the midst of that I thought to myself that I didn’t want to speak things that tore him down or could lodge in his tender heart. My problem on days like today is more how I say things (not that that’s much better). I’ll say with lots of frustration, Micah, stop opening the cupboard! (Which, incidentally, who cares? Am I really going to look back and think, If he only hadn’t opened and closed the cupboard 753 times that day…)
So, I’m still in process. Obviously. And oftentimes it’s just easier to progress when we do it together, no?