Cursing

My brother never cursed - that's what his college roommate said was one of the things that stuck out about him.
I don't curse, neither does my husband so I would take the leap and say neither do my children, but this is not necessarily the case.
I don't curse because it was never second nature to me, it wasn't as prevalent when I was growing up in movies, TV, people, but the most important reason why I don't is because the Bible says, these things ought not to be so (James 3:10).
I've been angry, and certain words come in to my head, but I just can't utter them.
There was a time in HS, when a person was talking and every other word was the eff word and I was listening intently. Turns out when it was my turn to speak, the eff word came out - I had to check myself and wondered how did that happen?
Basically, if we feed ourselves these words - consciously or unconsciously they will come out. Today, our standards are looser and sometimes going to the movies can be an assault on our ears. The same can be said for music, or daily interactions with co-workers.
I can accept that people curse; however I struggle with people who call themselves Christians and curse with no remorse. As an example, I see so many people on Facebook saying that Jesus is the number one man in their life and the next status update is laced with expletives. Where is the self control, the wanting to be like Jesus? It's a bad testimony - how are you different from everyone else around you?

"With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in God's likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers, this should not be.Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring? (James 3: 9-11)"

This is a little thing that can have a huge impact, if you're willing to make that change. Stop cursing, you'll sound a whole lot better.

The Year of Magical Thinking

Have you ever heard of "The Year of Magical Thinking" by Joan Didion? It's a book that describes her feelings and experiences after the death of her husband. In her words - this book is the author's attempt to make sense of the weeks and then months that cut loose any fixed idea I ever had about death, about illness, about marriage and children and memory...about the shallowness of sanity, about life itself. There's a subplot - before her husband dies suddenly, they were dealing with the hospitalization of her only child who was in ICU. The daughter eventually recovers, the husband dies.
After her husband's death, she talks about avoiding places that brought back memories, her denial of her husband's death, the first few nights being alone in her apartment and recounts countless conversations she had with her husband.
In this year of magical thinking - the reader gets to see what goes on in her head. She questions herself often. She is a researcher/author, so she does alot of research on death and grief to get answers and validate her feelings.
Ultimately, she is very gripping in her honesty.
As the author says, "Grief turns out to be a place none of us know until we reach it. In the version of grief we imagine, the model will be "healing." A certain forward movement will prevail. We have no way of knowing that the funeral itself will be anodyne, a kind of narcotic regression in which we are wrapped in the care of others and the gravity and meaning of the occasion. Nor can we know ahead of the fact the unending absence that follows, the void, the very opposite of meaning, the relentless succession of moments during which we will confront the experience of meaninglessness itself."

I think this book is a worthwhile read.

Cracks in the Cement

Within the past two weeks - two families within our circle of friends have lost their husbands. Two funerals in two weeks. Additionally, since I started writing this post, three teenagers that my children knew have died in car accidents within the space of a week.

Children are dying in car accidents - so eager to experience life they sometimes ignore the rules. Who knows when they will be fatal consequences?

Older people are dying from life's toll on them in the form of illness and disease.

Since my brother's death, I'm more attuned to death. They are circumstances that influence how I feel about the death. Most importantly if the person was a believer, claimed the Lord as their Savior - then I truly know they are in heaven and in a better place; while I grieve I know they truly are in a better place and this gives my grief perspective. If this was not the case, my heart aches. When a young person dies, it seems as if their life is cut off especially if it was in a reckless manner. As a parent, I wonder - why? Why didn't they listen, why were they speeding, why were they drinking, why weren't you home, why were you with those people, why were you there...so many whys - they dont change anything...may even torture us.
Death is like a crack in the cement; remember when you were a child you tried to jump over those cracks. Sometimes you just couldn't and ended in the crack. That's how death is - unavoidable - so be sure you live a full life, not reckless or uncaring but one that glorifies God and be sure you know where you're going when you die.

Communication

“Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing”(Proverbs 12:18).
We just say what we want, with no consequence as to how it affects the hearer. This trait seems to be hereditary, and it is something I wish to break. I have parts of this trait in me, and am constantly working to change it. The hardest part for me is tone - I sound harsh, abrupt, angry. I don't like the way I sound but it seems so hard to re-program; believe you me I've been trying for years. In some areas I have become quite successful - but I struggle with speaking lovingly on a daily basis using terms of endearment to make things more palatable. The closer you are to me, the harder it is to speak with love...when it should be just the opposite.
Well it seems there's alot of anger in the way we communicate, and since the death of my brother it has become more complicated. If the relationships were not formed when he was alive, right now it seems impossible to forge with death hanging over our heads.
Growing up, our house was always loud - my mother was a yeller, my father was quiet and the strict disciplinarian. It wasn't just the yelling - it was what was said. Looking back, I don't think I liked it one bit which is why once I discovered books I insulated myself from what was happening around me by disappearing in to another world. I would literally sit in a corner and block out all the noise for hours on end. Its where I also learned to be sarcastic and flippant; in my mind this was the quickest way to end an argument without getting in to a screaming match.
Its amazing how our environment becomes a part of us even if we don't like it. The biggest eye opener was when I had children and the way I initially communicated with them - yelling, not listening, and denying every request. My aha moment was when I realized I did not wish to be like my mother in this regard - in other areas, yes, but not this one. I did not want to pass on this unhealthy manner of communication to the next generation.
This way of communication has affected everyone of us, included the dead sibling.
I think things need to be said - but we hurt with our words more than help, because somehow everyone feels they can say what they want, when they want, how they want, to whomever they want. There's never an apology either when someone is wrong, the barrage of words just becomes stronger, louder, harder. In a time of crisis, this makes everything worse.
I dislike the expression brutally honest - because you can be honest without being brutal. The definition of brutal is savagely violent. Think about that image the next time you wish to be brutally honest!
I know people mean well, but I cant take it when people yell at me to get their point across - it brings back my childhood and I want to bury my head in a book.
I've learned to apologize when wrong, speak softer, but most importantly to listen.
I'm always working on not being glib and sarcastic, because this has worked for me for so long.
I'm not a doormat; but some may consider me a wimp because I don't yell back.
I want my words to be kind, like apples of gold in pictures of silver, to minister and heal. It might be an impossible standard, but when I can't do this, I say nothing.
So where do we go from here?
Effective communication involves more than just speaking and hearing. Real communication only takes place when both parties move beyond speaking and hearing to understanding. Speaking and listening are means, not ends. People who feel better because they “spoke their mind” or think they fulfilled their obligation because they “heard him out” inadvertently communicate a message that they don’t really want to communicate!
I don't know who's going to make the change. I know we all want it, but old habits die hard. I hope we have the courage to change. I hope we all get tongues of the wise so that we can each bring healing.