little fire.

The irony is not lost on me, friends.
That the more I try to teach my children.. the more I am learning myself.

Lately, it's about the power of our words.
I'll relay our little scenario for you:  the daughter comes home from school, saying she's been inviting one friend - but not that other one - to her birthday.  Saying she's done "eenie, meanie, miny-mo..." to choose who can come.  My eyes turn to dinner plates as I envision how painful this situation may have been to the girl 'left out'.  (All the while, I remember using this exact same threat as my own verbal arsenal when I was her age).

I take her aside one afternoon, and talk to her about the power of our words (James 3:5/6).
The poison or pleasantness of our tongues.
Do we want to hurt others, or help them with our speech.

She goes back to colouring,
I go back to contemplating:
Our tongues are small fires.

Do I raise people up, or raze people down with my words?

Does this fire bring warmth or does it burn?

Does it illuminate the darkness, or sting with it's smoke?

Be careful little fire.


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