Okay, it’s time for it to come out of the closet.

This little guy, the rock with the felt pieces glued on to make it look real.  It’s been sitting on a shelf in my closet staring at me for quite some time now. Among the socks and belts, that rock greets me with a worn out smile every morning.  To remind me of the truth.

I made that rock creature over thirty years ago.

Cut out eyes, legs and arms from felt, glued them on to make a rock seem real.

You may be asking why I would keep such a thing in my closet. After all, this doesn’t really go with rhinestone belts, black hosiery and high heels.

It sits there to remind me of the sanctity of words, the sacred meeting the ordinary that transforms life. Words that set the course of destiny like a freight train rolling firmly on its tracks.

My mother loved that little creature. Told me how much she loved it more times than I can remember. Her encouragement, like water to grow a seed, propelled dormant creativity. More creatures, more scribbles, and more drawings of my unique youthful version of people and life around me.

Most importantly, that rock represents the sanctity of words.

Every time I drew a silly little face with round eyes and slanted smiles, I got a smile, a hug, a giggle and words to feed my soul. Words like “you’re so good at drawing those little people” and “I love the little creatures you make from rocks.”

Those word seeds to grow the message of call: You have the ability to see things differently. A sacred echo I hear regularly now as an adult, why I am a writer.

And as I sit across from my girl, among the battle weary dinner dishes and dollops of food stuck to the bottom of serving bowls, we linger in conversation after the males push away from the table to finish their video game.  I listen to her recount sacred words spilled over her that day, still dripping sweetness.   Words like gifts dropped into the offering plate of her heart.

She pushes food around the plate with her fork under an umbrella of smile and repeats phrases, comments, and conversations like threading beads on a necklace. Wears the words of teachers, classmates, and youth workers like fine diamonds around her neck when our eyes meet.

And I suffer grief when I look into that glow of goodness. Realize I have often failed to be a bead purveyor in my daughter’s life. More like a bead smasher. And I want to find every shard, glue them back together and start over.

That smiling rock person in my closet, it reminds me of this. Language is a holy gift and there are no fences between vertical and horizontal language. Love redeems the hard and ugly; puts eyes, legs, and feet on destiny.

Language is a powerful gift. How have the words of others charted a course in your life?

Words satisfy the soul as food satisfies the stomach;
the right words on a person’s lips bring satisfaction. ~Proverbs 18:20

I couldn’t leave this post without recognizing how powerful your words on this blog have been to me. Words of affirmation, confirmation, conviction and encouragement, they carry me. That is the real truth. Thank You!  If you have been reading for a while it would make me smile if you would make it official and join the growing community here. Just slip your email address in the box under Follow Redemptions Beauty and follow the prompts.