A Box of Bandaids and An Ear

The wounds we encounter as a child, well, those of you with children, around children, or who were once children know, usually they are wounds we create by our own doing. For example, at about seven years old I decided (and I don't know why) that it would be the best idea to tie my shoe at the top of the stairs. Not only did I decide to tie my shoes at the top of the stairs, I decided that I would do so by lying down and sticking my feet in the air. At that same time my brother decided to go down the stairs. (In hindsight, I might have decided to tie my shoes there on purpose, possibly to prevent him from going down there- but who knows, it was a long time ago.)
As I laid on the floor my brother moved his little four year old legs over my head, and he tripped...and fell down the stairs. We both ran crying to my mom. My brother was wounded from having fallen down an entire flight of stairs, and my ear was bright red. My brother, as I told my mother, "tripped over my ear." Yes, he had tripped over my ear. It was red wasn't it?
Another time, in kindergarten, some boy and his "posse" ran after me and he kicked me in the head. I came home with a black eye. My mom and my aunts wisely told me that it was because he liked me. How fascinating. If only some boy would run after me and kick me in the head now....(kidding, kidding).
Ah, the joys of childhood drama...
There are other wounds that we encountered. Not physical, but inside. Kids are brutal. There are nicknames given, and not always fun loving names. (I also know this by experience.) At that point we learn the classic phrase, "sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me." If only that were true.
We carry hurts with us even as grown ups. I still, on occasion trip (but that's rare- you could call me Grace).... my ribs are still sore today. I also burned my forehead with a curling iron and one time almost got stuck on my stair case....okay maybe I'm not named Grace on purpose.
I know, you know, we all know, a broken bone sometimes heals over time much quicker than the hurt caused by a harshly spoken word. Slap on a Bugs Bunny or a Pretty Pretty Princess bandaid and the world is all better. They don't make bandaids for hearts though. As of late, I have been reminded of this very fact . The fact that words can and do cause hurt and pain.
What I don't know is how it happens, how a word can cause someone to feel so fragile.
I have begun to look again at my own self, my own mouth and determine what things have been coming out. I have found that it is true that what is in my heart, will come out of my mouth, and I don't want to be the cause of someone else's pain. But, on my own, I am no good. Left to my own devices, not only can I not walk a straight line, I cannot speak kindly to everyone. It is impossible, on my own. I have found that I must rely on God to help me. Not only do I need His help to guard my own heart from the hurts caused by others, but I need his strength to prevent me causing hurt.

Jeff Deyo, in his song, "Keep My Heart," says:

I don't know if I told you
How I long for your heart
I've just got to be like you
I've just got to be yours

That is my prayer.

So tonight while I go to sleep I will pray that I am made more like Jesus and that when I awake I will be closer to being like Him. I will also pray that my heart will be stronger and that I will not be hurt so easily knowing that others also speak out of hurt.

And, at the same time, I am going to try to find a bandaid, just for fun.

Love and sweet dreams to all,