Wounding Words, Wondrous Words

I almost couldn’t hear it when she spoke.

Words uttered under breath, understood loud and clear.

“You’re so late,” she rolls her eyes, clicks her tongue in disapproval.

I smile anyway, pass by, walk my daughter to class.

Fifteen minutes after the bell rang, we’re entering campus.


The words rattle me again.

But not just the words she said, since they were true.

It’s what I made them: “What a bad mom.”

Were those her words?

Or just what I felt?


The morning to that point? Fury-filled.

My oldest twisted in angst, missing her sister, angry at her absence.

As Christmas decorations emerged from boxes the day before, she’d struggled:

“Who would hang Angel’s homemade ornament?”

“Do we hang a stocking for a sister who won’t share the gift-filled morning?”

“Will she ever come home?”

“Will she ever heal?”


Words no child should have to consider.


As I kiss my girl goodbye near class, the words return:

“You’re so late.”

Words that dig at my confidence.

Words blind to a family’s struggle.

Words misunderstanding a sister’s grief.

Words spoken without seeing.


Only words.

I lean hard instead on another WORD.

The WORD who came to us this season long ago.

The WORD more powerful than armor and swords.

No need to argue, to qualify our life.

Instead trust hurtful words to the WORD who loves me

…more than any words can ever reveal.


How are you with words of others these days?



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