Words

We all know that words have power.  They can make or break a conversation, a relationship, and sadly, even a human being.  Many times though, it's not so much the words as it is the tone with which we say the words.  Our words say one thing, but our tone says something else.  Sometimes we may not even be aware of it, but the listener hears something entirely different anyway.

Perhaps the best example many of us can relate to is when we speak to our pets; we can say almost anything to them in a nice voice and our dog will wag her tail, but say something nice in a not so nice voice, and she will shy away.  It's all about tone.

Have you ever said the words, but not felt them?  For example, have you replied to your kids, "I love you, too," but sighed with exhaustion as you said it, instead of the enthusiasm they need?  Something like that?  What my children might be hearing in my reply is "Please go away right now," rather than the affirmation they need that they are safe, loved and cared for.

I'm becoming more and more aware that what I say isn't necessarily what my children hear.  I know this applied to me growing up, and I should have caught myself in this similar trap sooner.  Yes, I'm feeling a ton of mommy guilt over this.  I'm on a mission to correct this, being more aware of not just what I say, but how I say it.

This seems to apply the most to Avery.  Call it middle child syndrome, low self esteem, manipulative behavior--label it however you want, Avery's going through some stuff.  He's become very sensitive, and has begun taking just about everything personally. He needs a lot of affirmation, a firm hand and discipline--and a lot more affirmation and love on top of that.  He's the child who hears "Please go away" or "you're not like the rest of us" in my tone when I ask him to please stop talking, or tell him that trampoline jumping at 5:30 am isn't a good idea, or that he needs to sleep in his own bed, or whatever the latest admonishment is.  He says these things out loud to me during his meltdowns and tantrums, so I know this for fact.  It hurts.  It cuts deep that my sweet boy feels this way and thinks these things about himself, because they are the complete opposite of how I really feel about him.  

My ministry is motherhood.  My missions field is my home.  The community I serve is my family.  My children deserve the best of me, the best of what God has given me to give them.  I don't always get it right.  Avery is my teacher, my lesson is that my words and tone care so much weight, and must be carefully chosen and used.