Photograph © Hancock Photography 2016
I started this blog several months ago asserting that I believe firmly that words matter. That the words we say and how we say them make a difference--sometimes for good, sometimes not so much. I've made a career of sharing that sentiment and helping other people discover and shape their own words and to craft their messages so that they, too, can see, feel and understand the power of words.
The past two weeks, I've looked for that power to comfort. Our family lost someone who was dear to us, who was way too young, and who gave much to the people around him.I found myself searching for words to help those around me grapple with the loss and with living in a world that no longer has him in it.
There are none.
The truth is that, at times, spoken or written words can be inadequate. Instead, unspoken words, delivered through hugs, through holding a hand, or through sitting silently next to someone can be significantly more powerful.
At the funeral, though, spoken words broke through the wall of pain opened a way for healing. A young man, speaking with courage and love about the friend that he had lost, said that he believes all of us create a story with our lives. How we live and what we do with each day become the text. And then he pointed out that our friend's life was proof of that. His story was entirely too short, but the book was completely full. He did not leave one blank page, one gaping hole, one margin untouched. We lost him way too soon but the story he left behind was a novel of epic proportions.
He lived life with passion and energy and excitement. He lived so very deliberately.
And as I sat listening to those words, I thought of Thoreau's quote, one I first discovered when I was the same age as these young people who are struggling with the loss of their friend. I've gone back to it many times in my life, but never has it made more sense to me or has its truth seemed more clear than it did sitting in that church.
A life lived deliberately is a life well lived.
Looking back, I have to smile when I realize that, once again, words have made a difference for me, and I hope they did for the many other people that day who were hurting and lost. The stories told painted a picture of a young man who loved hard and lived fully. And words I found decades ago spoke to me once again and helped healing to begin and the future to come into clearer focus.
Words do matter. When we say them with purpose, when we use them deliberately, they can do immense and wonderful good. Words do matter. They matter so very, very much.
