Spoken Blessings

When my twin sons accidently caught 17-acres of land on fire while filming a World War II movie with their high school friends, it wasn’t the scorched trees I remember most. Or the helicopters flying over head to drop water. Or even the news stations capturing the flames on camera. It wasn’t the shots of nearby residents emptying their million-dollar homes of irreplaceable objects in case the fire took over.

What I remember most of that event came the next day after the smoke-filled air cleared and a kind detective arrived at our house with a lovely offering for my sons—the gift of words spoken over them like a blessing.

After the fire had been extinguished and all the equipment returned to the stations, the detective came by to tell us about the $150 fine and how things could’ve been much, much worse if there had been loss of property or life. My sons hadn’t run from the accidental fire they started when they foolishly used fireworks in a drought to create war special effects for their film. They stayed to battle the flames long after it became unsafe for them. The detective knew these facts and offered grace to my sons who felt like they had committed an unforgiveable crime.

He led one of my sons to the end of our driveway, out of ear shot from hovering parents and said, “Don’t let this situation stop you from pursuing your dreams.” Instead of shaming, chiding, warning, lambasting, he offered kindness (and a small fine for a fire that probably cost taxpayers tens of thousands of dollars). Both of my twins would go on to major in video production in college and work as videographers today.

Sometimes I think about this man’s actions toward my sons and wonder how many other scores of people he has calmed and redirected in the decade since the fire. How many traumatic or stress-filled situations has he stepped into and extinguished with his use of words?

This detective used words for healing, but words can just as easily be spread as poison to betray, spread sarcasm, heap on criticism, backstab. I’ve experienced them as poison—and used them as poison. The greatest tragedy for me is that I’ve used words as poison to those very people I love most in this world—my family. When my sons were young, nothing pained me more than to see hurt reflected in their eyes after I blasted them for their behavior instead of offering patience and grace. I like to think their startled eyes have changed me, but I’m not always so sure.

And I carry the effects of the toxicity of words spoken to me that should’ve been retracted a long, long time ago—or never spoken at all. My mother’s last words to me, delivered before the snap of our relationship and her diagnosis of cancer that would take her life, expressed such disdain for me, something no parent should ever utter to their children. She died without a retraction.

I carry those words and write about them way too often for someone who has seen many decades of life. Without retractions, we have the potential to remain stuck as the daughter (or son), always longing for a parent to offer the balm of love-filled words. Ironically the only healing remedy for the use of cruel words would be more words. Different words. Apologetic words. Replacement words. Retracted words.

During my troubled teen years when I had lost my way, my high school English teacher read a short story of mine, written because I was the new kid in the school and had no friends, and we were assigned to do a group project together. No one invited me to join, and I felt too shy to barge in on a group. So I approached my teacher and asked if I could write a short story instead, something I could do solo. He agreed and I wrote about a young couple saying goodbye as the husband went off to fight during the Revolutionary War. It was hardly Hamilton, but the teacher returned the story with an A+, and the words, “This is brilliant.” Simple words of praise that planted a seed that took root for years beneath the soil and one day contributed to my confidence to be a writer.

We have such power to be vision casters for good in people’s lives, offering the power of words to broken, wounded, weary travelers we meet every day. May we scatter powerful and life-changing words like blessings spoken into the wind to be spread across the land, falling on all who come in our path.

Linda Mackillop
Latest posts by Linda Mackillop (see all)

13 thoughts on “Spoken Blessings

  1. Linda, thank you so much for this reminder. I totally lost it the other day with my 4-year-old and said things that, in themselves weren’t horrible, but combined with the tone and level of frustration were hurtful. Words are so important. I’m learning to give myself grace but also am trying to be so aware of how I nurture our kids. Thank you for this grace-filled post.

    • Such a balance, isn’t it? Giving ourselves grace and being aware of how we nurture. Sounds like you’re on the right track! Thanks for your words here, Annie.

  2. That was a very wise detective! I’m so sorry that the relationship with your mother wasn’t good and that she didn’t retract. I know that must be hard to carry around. I’m glad your English teacher gave you such encouragement, because you do have a way with words. I pray this, too: “May we scatter powerful and life-changing words like blessings spoken into the wind to be spread across the land, falling on all who come in our path.” Thanks so much for sharing these parts of your life with us.

    Blessings to you!

    • Thank you for reading and for your words, Gayl.

  3. This is beautiful. I remember reading in one of Larry Crabb’s books, how when he was a teenager he prayed aloud in a meeting and got very nervous, confused, and tongue tied. Afterward he felt very humiliated. But then an older man came up to him and said, “Larry, anything you do for the Lord, I’m behind you 100 percent.” Crabb said he could never write or talk about that experience without crying–it had that great an impact. Words have so much power. Thank you for this.

    • Oh, thank you for sharing that Larry Crabb story, Jeannie.

  4. Beautiful story Linda. How I wish we could all reign in our tongue and unleash grace when it’s least deserved. Truth within the context of love speaks life into others. What an amazing theology of work that detective had. “May we scatter powerful and life-changing words like blessings spoken into the wind to be spread across the land, falling on all who come in our path.” Such a hope-filled exhortation!

    • Thank you, Stephanie. Yes, that detective was a role model…one I needed to learn from as well.

  5. Thank you for sharing your words, Linda. I especially connect with being the new kid in school in a city far from what was familiar. My parents had divorced that summer. The assignment in my English class was to write how we wanted to see the world. It earned me a “That would be so boring” scrawled across the top from my 9th grade teacher. Thankfully, I’ve had more encouragers in my life over the years. I’m still learning. Your words here are adding to that. Thank you again.

    • Debby, Your teacher’s words sadden me. May you cross paths with many others who encourage you instead. Thank you for your kind words here.

  6. Wow. What a wonderful story and tear-inducing post. Thank you so much for sharing. After my dad died 11 years ago, I cried more for what could never be in our relationship than for the loss of what was. I’m sorry for your experience with your mother. It should never have been that way.

    • Thank you, Stephanie. I resonate with your experience and grieve with you over what could never be.

  7. I know all to well how words effect the lives of others.
    When I was younger and in the early years of high school, my art teacher criticized my work, as did some of my classmates who knew of the criticism, after working very hard on it, but yet enjoying it.
    From that day forward I stopped drawing and have been able to draw since then.
    I used to be able to draw anything I looked at a be exactly as it was.
    then in tenth grade I had a English teacher criticize a story I wrote about a shoulder from the deep south.
    I wrote the story, spelling words that reflected the speech of a man from the deep south. My teacher gave me a failing grade on the story for improper grammar, poor spelling.
    To this day I struggle to write much of anything. I very much enjoyed writing and drawing when I was young.
    Today I cannot shake the criticism of so many years ago when I try to draw or write something. I am now 51 years old.
    I did not understand the power of words till many years later; after destroying the relationships with my own children. By the time I learned what power words have it was too late. The damage was done.
    I now stop and think about what I want to say, and speak blessing when I can.
    I have a dear friend who has just come out of a narcissistic marriage, and I speak blessing over her every day, and have watched life come back in to her, in a very short time.
    Her hope has come back, and she has started to live again.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *


This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.