Everyday. There’s so much to say . . . about what we believe in, what we’re passionate about, what we want to know more about, and so on. Libraries are full of words, our minds and tongues are full of them too.

Individual letters, brushstrokes even, that group together in a thought, in a strung-together element of speech we call a word. We group a bunch of those little or longer units together and a song is born. Or a poem, or an epitaph, novel or podcast. What a gift we’ve been given over all the other species in creation. Yes, they too can communicate with birdsong or bark but we are the ones who can write them down and send them forward to yet unborn generations.

A woman preacher said, this weekend to an arena of 9,000 expectant attendees, that our words are “containers” for power. She noted with a cautionary tone that this could be for good or evil. What we say matters to whoever our words are spoken to—we’d best not be careless with them, especially when our mood is foul or when we’re especially tired.

But a word of hope . . . it can turn a life around. A word of authority can turn a wrong to right. A word of peace can sooth a troubled soul. Oh, there is power in what we say and write.

The beautiful gift of words.

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