on words

They're just consonants and vowels.  Just sounds organized into frameworks we call words.
What do they matter? But so much of our world is affected by words. Words from the President to the Nation, from Preachers to congregations, from Daddies and Mamas to children, from children to friends and siblings.   Words everywhere.  We couldn't live a normal day without them.
Perhaps I am more affected by them than others. But I think not.  If they are gentle, curious and encouraging, I want to do better and feel loved and am inspired by them. If they are hard, edgy, and said thinly and with annoyance or anger, it's hard to think of anything else.
Words are huge. Strange things, and powerful. There are some thing in the every day carrying out of things that can take little or no extra time, but that can affect the surroundings and people considerably.
Kind words are one of them and will never be regretted.
How much Words Reflect, too. It's as if they hold that magic mirror of the Beast's that says "Show Me Gabrielle," as soon as I open my mouth…That's kindly disturbing.
I hope I can grow in speaking well, and speaking gently.  Speaking so that instead of someone feeling discouraged, shoved away or inadequate, they might feel like they've just had a conversation consisting of 'Apples of Gold in Pictures of Silver'.

:: just a few of the many things proverbs has to say on the matter  :: 

'There is that speaketh like the piercings of a sword: but the tongue of the wise is health.' 12.18 

'The lips of the righteous feed many: but fools die for want of wisdom.'  10.19-21

'A wholesome tongue is a tree of life: but perverseness therein is a breech in the spirit.' 15.4

'Pleasant words are as an honeycomb, sweet to the soul, and health to the bones.' 16.24 

friday evening post

sometimes writing is like stage fright. the light is too bright and everything seems too big to swallow and words just won't come. but i figure if i stop thinking about it, and just do it, that's the thing that will snap the cord of indecision. i haven't written in so long on digital pages, and sometimes i wonder why do that when i have REAL pages? i don't know exactly. because of the other posts, that live here, i guess. but in any case, for the sake of fricassee and frying a hen, here is a post, little blog, you poor, forsaken old thing.

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Daddy's been trying to kill that blessed rat for days now. The loathsome thing will take all the food from his special-sized Rat Trap, and lumber off with it. I've heard he's huge. Mama and Angelot were talking and he ran right through them.  Angelot said it was the biggest rat she'd ever seen, and that's saying a lot, cause she's had a farm. The old thing is cunning too, apparently. But Daddy will get him. Yes, Sirree.  Last night I came home and saw also, beside the Giant Trap, a bowl of succulent blue poison. Surely Daddy will succeed this time. That Rat can run and hide, but it can't resist deliciousness. 

For some reason, spring is the only time I think of baby birds hatching and growing into fledglings. But there have been lots of baby birds. There are three that must have hatched a couple of weeks ago. Chubby, awkward little things that can only squeak and hang onto the telephone wire, they just sit there, preening, watching other graceful birds skim the air lightly and skillfully. One day, they will sing beautiful songs and gracefully duck and dash into the air with the best of them. Until then, I get to watch them from our porch every morning.