My last entry was about WORDS...and I just couldn't pass up sharing something I came across some time ago. This is an awesome example of the POWER OF A MOM'S WORDS...and you mothers out there that truly love your little ones to pieces...know what I'm talking about. Yes, get a tissue if you are anything like those sobbing women that cry about everything me! I can be reading something funny, sweet, heart-warming, heart-breaking, it doesn't matter or watching some show or movie, listening to some song or speaker...and without fail...something will tug on my heart and the tears roll out. It's an on-going joke with my boys now. They used to walk by and say, "mom, what is wrong?" And I would say, "Oh nothing babe, I'm just reading something" or "watching something". So now, they just walk by with that unphased look and joke with each other by saying, "MOM'S CRYING AGAIN!" and the other answers with "GET A TISSUE!" So you may want to get a tissue before reading any futher!
...sniffle sniffle, MEL
...sniffle sniffle, MEL
Words Have Big Impact on Little People...
The boys lined up on the starting line, waiting for the gun to begin the 3.1-mile race on a path through the woods. Parents and fans stood on the sidelines ready to burst into cheers as the herd of young men prepared themselves for the State Championship Cross Country meet. My nephew Stu was among the runners that day.
As soon as Stu’s foot left the starting position, his mother Pat picked up her brightly painted 36-inch megaphone and began to yell.
“GO, STU!” she cheered, not once but at ten-second intervals. When he was out of sight, she ran to another strategic spot along the winding trail where the runners would eventually pass by. And even though the boys were nowhere in sight, Pat continued to cheer, “GO, STU!”At one point she yelled, “GO, STU!” and a man from across the park yelled, “HE CAN’T HEEEAAARRR YOOOUUU!”
“I don’t know if he can hear me or not,” Pat murmured.” But if there’s a chance he can, I want him to hear my voice cheering him on.” So for 16 minutes, this little dynamo of a woman continued to pump confidence and courage into her son’s heart.
After the race, I asked Stu, “When you’re running on that trail in the woods, can you hear your mother cheering for you?”
“Oh yes,” he answered with a grin. “I can hear her the whole way.”
“And what does that do for you?” I asked.
“It makes me not want to quit,” he replied. “When my legs and lungs ache, when I feel as if I’m going to get sick, I hear my mom’s voice cheering for me. And it makes me not want to quit.”
The boys lined up on the starting line, waiting for the gun to begin the 3.1-mile race on a path through the woods. Parents and fans stood on the sidelines ready to burst into cheers as the herd of young men prepared themselves for the State Championship Cross Country meet. My nephew Stu was among the runners that day.
As soon as Stu’s foot left the starting position, his mother Pat picked up her brightly painted 36-inch megaphone and began to yell.
“GO, STU!” she cheered, not once but at ten-second intervals. When he was out of sight, she ran to another strategic spot along the winding trail where the runners would eventually pass by. And even though the boys were nowhere in sight, Pat continued to cheer, “GO, STU!”At one point she yelled, “GO, STU!” and a man from across the park yelled, “HE CAN’T HEEEAAARRR YOOOUUU!”
“I don’t know if he can hear me or not,” Pat murmured.” But if there’s a chance he can, I want him to hear my voice cheering him on.” So for 16 minutes, this little dynamo of a woman continued to pump confidence and courage into her son’s heart.
After the race, I asked Stu, “When you’re running on that trail in the woods, can you hear your mother cheering for you?”
“Oh yes,” he answered with a grin. “I can hear her the whole way.”
“And what does that do for you?” I asked.
“It makes me not want to quit,” he replied. “When my legs and lungs ache, when I feel as if I’m going to get sick, I hear my mom’s voice cheering for me. And it makes me not want to quit.”
That’s the power of a woman’s words to her children as they embark on the great race of life, and it is a picture I have carried with me since I first read this story. I wonder how many children walk away from their dreams because no one was there to cheer them on. I wonder how many children never even attempt to reach for their dreams because someone they trusted along the way told them they couldn’t do it.
From the time a child emerges from the safety of the womb, he or she is shaped and molded by the power of a mother’s words. With her eyes locked on her little bundle of love, she coos, comforts, and coaxes that miraculous gift from God—and she becomes the mirror in which the child sees himself. For a very short, very fleeting period of time, we have the privilege of shaping and molding an eternal soul. And one of the primary ways we do this is by the words we speak.
Whether we have children of our own or the privilege of other people’s children in our lives, we have the potential to make an everlasting impact for good or bad.
by s. james
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