Mrs. Hill told me I should write. That was 27 years ago.
Words have a way of sitting in the vault until a time when we need to access them, a time when they become more relevant. Words matter.
“…the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark. The tongue also is a fire…” – James 3: 5,6
The words that a high school teacher spoke 27 years ago now have some substance, a new form in my new place in life. My journey as a mom is teaching me how much words matter, how much children absorb, how much I have absorbed in a lifetime of words.
I want to honor my words; choose them carefully; write words that make a difference, if only to me. Writing is a means of sifting, filtering, formulating, assigning meaning to otherwise jumbled thoughts. Organizing the mind brings peace. I am learning a lot about peace these days and it is bringing new depths of joy to mothering and family life.
So begins the journey of assigning words to my inner sanctum.
“The limits of my language means the limits of my world.” ― Ludwig Wittgenstein