How I wish for words. Real words, not just the ones that Mame pens for me.
I long for words that drift from my own mouth and float softly on the air and find their way, landing in the ears of those whose hearts need the healing oil of the sweet truth.
I have been a mute leaning post to many a soul that needed to share their burdens and secrets with someone, those whose fear of judgment and ridicule were greater than the weight of their secrets. I am a safe harbor for them to dock their torments in as I can neither mock nor repeat for my lack of human speech.
Folks have confessed to me their failures, imperfections, disappointments, broken spirits and hearts. My mind aches to give them the comfort of kind, guiding words. Yet my mouth is sealed by my creator.
Only once in the history of the world was an animal given voice, and I am proud to say it was a member of the equine family. It was a donkey and she was given speech to help make Balaam aware that there was an angel because she could see it and he could not.
When Jesus rode into Jerusalem, the crowd praised him, the Pharisees told Jesus to rebuke them. Jesus said if they were quiet the stones would cry out. All of nature can speak, but all of nature lays quiet listening for the one creature that has been granted words to use them wisely.
There are the wise who speak carefully and kind. There are also many that throw words around recklessly and carelessly, wounding souls and killing dreams in their wake. Words have great power to heal and great power to destroy. Most men give them little to no consideration, therefore taking no responsibility for the casualties their comments produce.
I know many who are kind. They are another story, a happier story for another day, but I have been touched by a number of the traumatized this past month and that brings me to my own heartache of not having the very thing that hurt them, so that I might help: words.
Words and Hearts should be handled with care,
for words when spoken and hearts once broken
are the hardest things to repair.
— Author Unknown
EDITOR’S NOTE: Huck can’t really write, but his mame, Carmen Newman, pens his thoughts on his behalf.