Hush: Mind Your Mouth, Words Cut Deep
By Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar
Let me kick things off with a little truth: my grandmother was a master of discipline, and when it came to teaching me about the weight of words, her creativity was nothing short of legendary. I remember one day, after I let loose with a sharp comment to my cousin, she didn’t just lecture me. No, she slapped the fire right out of me. I mean, I’m pretty sure I saw sparks flying. I was so caught off guard I forgot what I even said in the first place.
“Child,” she said, standing over me like a holy warrior about to deliver some divine smackdown, “you better hush that reckless mouth before it lands you in a mess even I can’t pull you out of!” She gave me that look the one that could melt a steel door and walked off, leaving me standing there, confused and with a burning cheek, wondering what just happened.
Now, don’t get me wrong my grandmother wasn’t mean, not by a long shot. She was loving, full of wisdom, and sharp as a tack. But she knew the power of words, and she didn’t hesitate to remind me of it. Words have weight, and using them recklessly, especially toward those who care about you, is like tossing a match into a dry forest and then acting shocked when everything burns down.
It’s easy to forget that the people who love us the most are also the ones most affected by our words. Yes, even when they mess up. My grandmother used to say, “Just because someone drops the ball doesn’t mean you should throw the whole game away.” She was always reminding me that love is about patience, even when it’s hard, especially when it’s inconvenient.
There was another time I got a little too big for my britches and snapped at her yes, I actually had the audacity to sass my grandmother. I can’t recall exactly what I said (probably for my own sanity), but I remember her reaction like it was yesterday. She paused, gave me the kind of calm look that only precedes a storm, and said, “Boy, you’re digging yourself a hole so deep, even the angels won’t come down to help you. Hush that mouth before you bury yourself alive.” And just as she finished, she reached for her slipper. Trust me, I found religion in that moment. Real quick.
But here’s the thing: my grandmother wasn’t just about getting me to keep quiet to avoid trouble. She was teaching me to use my words carefully. “Words,” she’d say, “are like toothpaste. Once you squeeze them out, you can’t put ’em back in.” And trust me, I tried. After one particularly heated argument with my sister, I thought saying, “I didn’t mean it!” would somehow undo the damage. Yeah, no. The look on her face told me that my apology, though appreciated, couldn’t take away the sting of my careless words.
We’ve all been there, right? Letting our mouths run wild, thinking we’re just being real or expressing ourselves, only to realize too late that our words hit harder than we meant them to. And the worst part? It’s usually the people closest to us who end up bearing the brunt of our verbal missiles.
But here’s the kicker: we justify it. “Oh, they’ll forgive me. They know how I am.” That’s a slippery slope. My grandmother had no time for that nonsense. “How you are,” she’d say, “ain’t how you have to stay. You’re not an animal, so stop acting like one and get some self-control!”
Her humor and wisdom stuck with me, though it took me years to really get it. The kindness we owe others isn’t just for strangers or acquaintances; it’s especially for those who love us. They’re the ones who’ve chosen to walk through life with us flaws, mistakes, and all. If they can forgive us for our mess-ups, the least we can do is speak to them with care, even when we’re upset.
Now, don’t get me wrong I’m not saying you have to be perfect with your words. I’m no saint, and trust me, my tongue has gotten me into more than my fair share of trouble. But I’ve learned that just taking a second to pause literally one moment of silence can make all the difference. Before you snap, before you let loose, take a breath. Ask yourself if what you’re about to say is going to build up or tear down.
It’s funny how often the things we feel compelled to say in the heat of the moment are, in the grand scheme of things, not all that important. My grandmother used to tell me, “If you’re about to speak in anger, stick a mint in your mouth first. At least that way, your words will smell nice when they come out.” Her point was simple: sometimes, you need to cool down before you open your mouth.
And let’s be real for a second: a lot of the time, when we lash out with our words, it’s because we’re hurting ourselves. It’s easy to strike out when someone else makes a mistake, but the truth is, we all mess up. Now, imagine if the Creator spoke to us the same way we sometimes speak to others reckless and harsh. Where would we be? I shudder to think.
So, what’s the takeaway here? Hush. Mind your mouth. Be intentional with your words. And when you mess up and you will don’t be afraid to apologize. Apologies are like soothing balm for the wounds we create with our mouths. They won’t heal everything, but they show that we care enough to try and make things right.
And if you need a little extra motivation to rein in that tongue of yours, just think about my grandmother and her slipper. Sometimes, a good laugh and a sore cheek is all it takes to remind us that words can cut deep, but they don’t have to. Use them wisely, love deeply, and speak with the kind of grace that reflects the love of the Creator.
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