They say confession is good for the soul so I am going to try a little of my own.As a warning, I am also going to throw in some blame and justification, as well. Now before I begin, I am already thinking, “I bet I am going to regret putting this in print.” But here I go anyway.
The other day I was walking at the Lake Dardanelle State Park and a squirrel startled me. No big deal, right? Well, that would be true except for the word that came out of my mouth. It is a word that I cannot put in print, but it begins with an “s” and it ends with a “t”. Yes, that word!
Now here is the really crazy part, right before I said that bad word I had been singing the old hymn, “He Lives.” I had just finished singing the words, “I serve a risen Savior,” and then out it came. Not at all what the original hymn writer had penned. As a matter of fact anyone not familiar with the hymn would have thought, “Wow that is bold. Our church songs don’t contain those types of words.”
I quickly shot a truly remorseful, “Sorry, Lord!” to heaven and picked right up where I left off and started singing again.
The fact that I say that word is well known among my close friends and family. It just seems to pop out whenever I am startled or frightened.
The fact that I say that word is well known among my close friends and family. It just seems to pop out whenever I am startled or frightened.
One infamous story that gets retold from time to time has cemented my association to that word for even the children of my closest friends.
For close to 21 years a group of us have been camping together. One 4th of July we were all camping in Branson, Mo. We found somewhat of a clearing to shoot fireworks with the kids. At the time the oldest child in the group was eight, and the children far outnumbered the adults.
During the firework display a 50-shot missile firework fell over and began to shoot toward all of us. If you are familiar with this type of firework then you know that the “missiles” go in all kinds of directions before exploding. It was a wild scene with adults trying to get the kids out of harm’s way.
Well, low and behold when it was all over, guess what word I had said about 100 times? Yep. Didn’t even realize it was coming out of my mouth, but it was, over and over again. The kids still talk about it to this day.
Let me stop here and say, my husband, the father of my children, does not cuss at all. Well, that is not exactly true, but in the 28 years that I have known the man I have heard him say a cuss word three times. Two of those times it was really my fault.
He was in the Navy before I meet him, and he says he had “colorful language” at that time. But when he became a Christian at the age of 26 he stopped cussing. Oh, I know that is so sweet, but I became a Christian at the age of seven and I am still trying to stop saying “that word.” You know, it would make me feel a little better if someone was in this pit with me.
Actually, it’s really not my fault I say this word (here comes the blame and justification.) You see, all the important women in my family say or did say this word – my maternal grandmother, my paternal grandmother, my maternal aunts, my paternal aunts, and my mom. This has been the go to word, for generations
During the firework display a 50-shot missile firework fell over and began to shoot toward all of us. If you are familiar with this type of firework then you know that the “missiles” go in all kinds of directions before exploding. It was a wild scene with adults trying to get the kids out of harm’s way.
Well, low and behold when it was all over, guess what word I had said about 100 times? Yep. Didn’t even realize it was coming out of my mouth, but it was, over and over again. The kids still talk about it to this day.
Let me stop here and say, my husband, the father of my children, does not cuss at all. Well, that is not exactly true, but in the 28 years that I have known the man I have heard him say a cuss word three times. Two of those times it was really my fault.
He was in the Navy before I meet him, and he says he had “colorful language” at that time. But when he became a Christian at the age of 26 he stopped cussing. Oh, I know that is so sweet, but I became a Christian at the age of seven and I am still trying to stop saying “that word.” You know, it would make me feel a little better if someone was in this pit with me.
Actually, it’s really not my fault I say this word (here comes the blame and justification.) You see, all the important women in my family say or did say this word – my maternal grandmother, my paternal grandmother, my maternal aunts, my paternal aunts, and my mom. This has been the go to word, for generations
Now, before anyone gets the wrong idea, none of these women were proud of saying this word. Most of the time it was whispered under their breath, or only the “sh” came out before they stopped themselves. And you cannot find a more Godly group of women who served in their churches, cared for the needy, and taught their children to love God. BUT, we have this little glitch in the system – oh how I wish it were the only glitch. It’s just this one seems so odd to me. I mean, I have friends who say they have never said a cuss word in their life. I can’t even imagine.
I keep telling the Lord that one day I will not say this word anymore. I have even gone six months before without saying it one single time, and then wham, I say it – so frustrating. I know I am making progress because on a recent camping trip a fish bit my leg and I about jumped out of the lake, but I did not say the “word.” I think someone should give me a gold star.
On second thought, hold off on that gold star until we see if I can get through an entire rendition of “He Lives” without any extra words.
I keep telling the Lord that one day I will not say this word anymore. I have even gone six months before without saying it one single time, and then wham, I say it – so frustrating. I know I am making progress because on a recent camping trip a fish bit my leg and I about jumped out of the lake, but I did not say the “word.” I think someone should give me a gold star.
On second thought, hold off on that gold star until we see if I can get through an entire rendition of “He Lives” without any extra words.
