Watching Our Words in Lent (Part 3)

Only a month until Easter!
I hope we’re all making progress on sweetening our words and communication.

Week 3: Measure Your Motive

For the past two weeks, we’ve been learning to pause before we speak, allowing the Holy Spirit to help us choose our words well. Our challenge this week is to consider the “why” behind our words after we take our pause. For example:

Am I seeking revenge or retaliation? If so, I do best to hold my tongue.
Am I bragging? The sin of pride is often a subtle one.
If I am giving advice, is it to make myself look better?
Or to make the other person look worse? If so, I should skip the comments.

And even if my response is well-intended, is it wanted? Will my words actually help the situation? Unsolicited advice can often come across as criticism. “The next time you make this dish, you should bake it longer,” sounds a lot like “You didn’t cook this right.” Let’s ask ourselves, “How would I feel if someone said this to me?”

Do nothing out of selfishness or out of vainglory; rather, humbly regard others as more important than yourselves. (Philippians 2:3)

Let’s continue working on using our pause to consider our “whys” before a word even leaves our mouths. Come back next week, and we’ll add another idea. See you then!

-colleen

Excerpts taken from: Arnold, Colleen. “5 Steps toward Better COMMUNICATION.” St. Anthony Messenger, vol. 129, no. 8, 2022, pp. 31-34.

Watching Our Words in Lent (Part 2)

Only five more weeks to go before Easter! Last week, we challenged each other to use this time to “fast” from unkind words and to “give away” kind ones instead, hoping to emerge at the end of Lent with new habits to keep our words sweeter than jellybeans.

Week Two: Learn to Pause, Part 2

We noted the first step in all this is to learn to pause before we speak, allowing the Holy Spirit to help us choose our words well. That pause helps us make better decisions. By reflecting before replying automatically, I avoid saying “yes” when I don’t mean it. I avoid saying “no” to something I would have agreed to with more consideration.

This week, we’ll continue working to perfect that pause. Another advantage is that it helps us recognize conversations we’d rather not be part of. Some people are debaters who love to argue; some are complainers who find fault in everything; others are full of sarcasm or gossip. By holding our tongues, we avoid contributing to those negative words, criticisms, and complaints.

Set a guard, Lord, before my mouth, keep watch over the door of my lips.

(Psalm 141:3)

Finally, perfecting the pause helps us become better listeners. It’s a common practice to interrupt others in conversation: “I know just what you’re talking about! Here’s what happened to me.” And even if we aren’t actually saying it out loud, we are often thinking it, ready to jump in as soon as the other person takes a breath.

Knowing I will pause before I speak allows a different approach. I can listen thoughtfully when someone else is speaking and give them my full attention, which helps me feel more connected and empathetic. I can stop thinking ahead to my response. When they finish their comments, I can pause and carefully choose my words before speaking, fostering trust and respect.

Know this, my dear brothers: everyone should be quick to hear, slow to speak.

(James 1:19)

Let’s continue working on this sweet pause over the upcoming days. Come back next week, and we’ll add another idea. See you then!

-colleen

Excerpts taken from: Arnold, Colleen. “5 Steps toward Better COMMUNICATION.” St. Anthony Messenger, vol. 129, no. 8, 2022, pp. 31-34.

Watching Our Words in Lent (Part1)

Hello friends! I’ve missed you, and I am so glad you are here!

In the Catholic world, and even for many Protestants, Lent started a few days ago. Typically, Lent involves the opportunity to praise and honor God through fasting, prayer, and giving.

I’ve been thinking about doing something different than giving up candy (though there is nothing wrong with that!). I am going to watch what I say, hoping to be compassionate, kind, and not complain. What if we use this time of Lent to fast from unkind words and give kind ones instead?

Want to join me?

A few years ago, I wrote an article titled “Wield Your Words Well,” originally published in Saint Anthony Messenger Magazine. It was a simple five-step strategy based on wisdom from the Bible to remind us to always use our words with love.

It can be admirable to speak your mind and argue your cause, and sometimes it’s appropriate. I know I’m not alone, though, when I recall occasions when I spouted off quick and clever remarks that, in retrospect, were unkind and uncharitable. Haven’t we all spoken words that made us feel superior and witty at first, but later made us ask ourselves, “Why did I say that?”

And it’s not just those sarcastic remarks that get us in trouble. Our words can take us down paths of gossip and lies, too. Our tongues can be vicious weapons, and in this world of conflict and controversy, it’s even more important that we learn to wield those weapons carefully.

That’s my plan. Each week, I’ll share a new strategy that builds on the previous week’s practice. We’ll emerge at the end of Lent with words sweeter than jellybeans!

Week One: Learn to Pause, Part 1

Sometimes our mouths get ahead of our brains, and we spout off snarky remarks before we catch ourselves. Or worse yet, we don’t even realize what we’ve said until hours later – after the damage has been done.  No wonder we read in Proverbs 29:20:

Do you see someone hasty in speech? There is more hope for a fool!

The first step in training our tongues is learning to pause; everything else flows from that. If we stop before we speak, the Holy Spirit can help us choose our words well. Silence isn’t a bad thing, and we don’t have to fill every pause in a conversation with words.

For example, pausing helps us make better decisions. By reflecting before an automatic reply, I avoid saying “yes” when I don’t mean it.  I avoid saying “no” about something to which I would have agreed with more consideration.

Let your ‘Yes’ mean ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No’ mean ‘No.’ Anything more is from the evil one (Matthew 5:37).

Let’s practice this sweet pause over the upcoming days. Come back next week, and we’ll add another idea. See you then!

-Colleen

Tanku: Learning Trust From a Toddler

Earlier this month, my grandson was quite sick. He was in the ICU, treated with IV fluids, oxygen machines, suctioning, and frequent breathing treatments. It had to be difficult for him to understand.

With each new torture, he signed, “All done, all done!” willing it to be over. As each torture finished, he clapped his hands, “Yay, yay!” And often, he followed that clapping with his simple word, “Tanku,” aka, thank you.

I’ve reflected on this now that he is home, safe and healthy. Yes, he’s a happy baby with a big heart, but that couldn’t explain all his reactions.

Finally, I realized it was trust. He trusted his parents and me, and therefore also the hospital staff. He had no idea why we were doing things he didn’t like or understand, but he knew we loved him and wouldn’t hurt him.

It reminds me of God’s words in Jeremiah: I know full well the plans I have for you, plans for your welfare and not for your misfortune, plans that will offer you a future filled with hope (29:11, NCB).

We want to trust God because we know he loves us and wants the best for us – but it’s not easy.

We question his wisdom: “God, I have a better idea…”
We second guess his plans: “Are you sure God? This doesn’t seem right to me.”
And we doubt his love: “If you really cared about me, you wouldn’t put me through this.”

We all go through tough times. It’s part of the human experience. But just because we’re struggling doesn’t mean God abandoned us. Just because life gets difficult doesn’t mean God isn’t right here, walking us through it.

So next time I have trouble trusting God’s plans, I will remember my grandson’s example and say, “Tanku, God.”

Just Another Day

I enter the tiny exam room where only a month ago, Dick first mentioned a new cough. Now the oxygen cord hangs from his nose and snakes down to the huge tank on the floor beside him. He wears his pink shorts and flowery polo shirt, even though he won’t be going to the golf course today.

He carries a book under his arm, just in case I am behind schedule, and his usually tanned skin hangs from his gaunt face with a deathly pallor. He pushes himself up from the chair and gets short of breath from the exertion. I reach for him as his balance wobbles, and he pulls me into a long, tight hug.

“I don’t have much energy these days,” he says. “Good thing I’ve gotten so forgetful; now I can read the books in my library all over again.” I laugh at his joke, as always. His wife laughs, too, like it’s the first time she’s ever heard this clever comment. They’ve been married for 57 years, and as she twirls the wedding ring on her finger, I sit down between them and begin the conversation I’ve dreaded.

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