Unexpected Praise

 

I stopped by Jersey Mike’s for lunch on last Friday’s work day.

As I stood in line to wait for my sandwich,

I heard the manager say,

“You guys just rocked that. 

That was so good. 

I know it was a lot at once. 

But you did it. 

And you rocked it.

And everything looked beautiful. 

I’m so proud of you guys!”

 

I’ve had the privilege of working for cheerleaders for the past many years. 

I feel appreciated by my boss and 

I’m thankful to work for someone who sees what I do and expresses his gratefulness on a regular basis. 

 

But not everyone can say that. 

 

In fact, I imagine that most people can’t. 

 

I think that’s why the Jersey MIke’s manager’s words 

Meant so much to me. 

She was genuinely proud of her team, 

She knew they were discouraged, 

So she shared her encouragement through praise. 

And even though the teenagers that she was working with didn’t really acknowledge her speech,

I think it meant a lot to them. 

How could it not? 

They had been seen and their time and efforts had been valued. 

And, after all, isn’t that what most of us deeply desire?

 

May this be a reminder that 

Words are powerful

And that sometimes they affect even the people they aren’t meant to reach.

 

May we use our words to build up and encourage

And when we see something good,

May we hold it in light and 

Celebrate the people involved in the goodness,

Especially when they may not often hear words of encouragement and praise. 

 

Amen. 

And Then I Cried

 Shortly after finishing Monday’s note,

I realized that I didn’t have a picture of Kay.

As any good 21^st-centurian would do,

I took to the Interwebs to look for a picture of this woman who had come to mean so much.

The thing is?

I found obituaries and old scholarship information,

But I couldn’t find a picture.

As I continued to search,

I came across an article honoring Kay.

At the end of the article,

Kay was quoted as saying:

 

“I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through…I trust that you already know that my heart just aches for you…I know that all things work together for good to those who serve God. So I trust that as I act moment by moment to follow God’s leading, God will work through my decisions. In any event, I know with assurance that God is already working. God’s action is to bring about good things for you and for the body of Christ. There’s no doubt. We just have to wait. As we’ve all figured out for one reason or another, life isn’t fair and justice is hard to find. Mostly I’d like for you to get through it. It happened and requires you to work in order to get through it—but I pray that you get THROUGH rather than remain in it. So I hope you’ll spend exactly the right amount of time processing it all and doing what it takes to attend to it so that it will be well and truly over. I love you very much! You take my love and respect and appreciation with you where you go…I’m proud of you, you’ve been faithful.”

 

I screen-shotted her words.

And then I cried.

 

God: Thank you that our hearts and words live on long after we’re gone. May Kay’s words, today, bless and encourage someone who needs to hear them…seventeen years after they were written. Thank you, God, that you are already working and that your action is to bring about good in a world that seems to celebrate evil. You ARE good. And we ARE trying to be faithful. Amen.  

 

Oh! And by the way—

After thirty minutes of tears and searching,

I found Kay’s picture in a PDF brochure.

It’s not the best quality in the world.

But it will do.

😊

Have A Great Day

At the beginning of August, one of my real-life friends from camp friended me on Facebook. Almost every day since we’ve reconnected, this friend has written to say, “Hope you have a great day.” I write her back and say, “You too.” Then she writes me back with a thumbs up. It’s only been six weeks, but it’s come to be a ritual that I look forward to each day. Here is this friend that I haven’t talked to in almost twenty years suddenly letting me know that she’s thinking of me and wishing me well! What’s more, she’s an assistant in the public schools who starts her days SUPER early and is very often overlooked and underappreciated for her work. It would be easy for her to go about her days and not write, yet she does. And I have a feeling I’m not the only person she writes. Friends: May we be a people of positive, encouraging structures and routines, And may we use our presence in each other’s lives to build up rather than destroy. I know I sound like a broken record, but I believe it so much: Words have power. Even simple words such as, “Hope you have a great day.” Thank you, Amanda, for inspiring me and making a simple yet profound difference in my life. The world needs more people like you.

Words Have Power

Earlier in the week, at the bottom of a work-related e-mail exchange, I had a colleague write: “Thanks for all you do. I see all your hard work!” Such a simple statement…but those words have passed through my mind a gazillion times since reading them. “I see all your hard work.” There’s something to being seen. Not glazed over. Not overlooked. But seen. Paid attention to. Valued. In a work environment where I literally don’t see anyone other than my team of five—and that’s if I’m lucky—being seen is a challenge. And yet, this colleague sees me. And my hard work. And I have been working so very hard (as has the entire Teacher Body of the 2020-2021 School Year). Friends—I have said this time and time again, but I will say it again: Words have power. Even to those who don’t claim Words of Affirmation as their primary love language, words are transformational. Specific. True. Intentional words can literally change someone’s life… I have an encouragement folder in my e-mail. It’s full of messages that have encouraged me over the years. My colleague’s message is now in that folder. Friends: May we be writers of messages that make it into one another’s encouragement folders. Amen.

Words of Affirmation

I had a performance with my Kindergarten and 1st grade students on Monday night. 110 students showed up to sing and dance for their “teachers, parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers, sisters, next door neighbors, and friends,” and I was very proud of them. They’d been working hard to share their learning, and in the moment of truth, they showed up.

After the performance, I was exhausted. I went home and tried to sleep, but I couldn’t. I always feel vulnerable after performances—wondering if what I did was “good enough,” fearing that it wasn’t, preparing for complaints, secretly longing for compliments and words of affirmation…

As I stood in the car rider line on Tuesday afternoon, a grandfather rolled down his window and asked if I was the music teacher. I said that I was. He then told me how wonderful the program had been the night before. I almost cried.

Then I received an e-mail from a parent that did made me cry:

“Hello! I just wanted to say congratulations on a job well done last night! You made everything look so easy from beginning to end! So many people were so impressed at how well the kids knew their songs. I can speak for all the kindergarten teachers when I say that we love how you find ways to incorporate our learning objectives into your music!

I kept trying to figure out how my daughter knew how to skip count by 2’s. Her teacher told me they haven’t focused real hard on that yet. Now I know it was YOU! She has figured out, on her own, how to count by 2’s to 100! And... even though she tortures my soul with the non-stop skip counting...(every time we get in the car to go somewhere🤪), both me and my husband are so glad she so fortunate to have such a fun and amazing music teacher!!!”

Teachers put a lot of effort and intention into what we teach. We log many long hours at work and then log many more at home. I am somewhat fortunate to work in a performance field where my work can easily be commended and applauded, but classroom teachers often are not given the accolades they deserve. Many teachers often only hear criticism—and wonder if they are good enough, fearing that they aren’t, while secretly longing for compliments and words of affirmation.

If you know a teacher, consider sending him/her some accolades today—especially if you are a parent of a school-aged kid. It’s not teacher appreciation week. It’s nothing special that I know of. It’s just a Thursday…but I have a feeling that it’s a good day for affirmation.

Notice Them

As part of an after-school training today, we did an activity where we wrote words of encouragement on sheets of paper taped to one another’s backs. As someone whose primary love languages are words of affirmation and physical touch, the activity was right up my alley.

I decided to take the opportunity to tell people things that I’d been thinking for some time but hadn’t had the chance to say. “You have a beautiful heart.” “You have an encouraging smile.” “You are always so calm.” “You are an amazing teacher.” “You are my people.” “You are one of the strongest people I know.”

Since I decided to take the activity very seriously and write full sentences in my best handwriting, I didn’t make it to very many people. But I thought about what I’d say to a lot of people, and I realized two things:

1) We shouldn’t wait to tell people positive things about themselves. It’s not hard to write a quick note or send a quick e-mail. And if we want to remain anonymous, it’s not hard to do that either—especially in a work setting.

2) It’s easy to pay attention to people with whom we click and to find positive words about them, but it’s difficult to find something genuinely kind to say to people with whom we don’t immediately connect. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that it’s easier to find negative words to say about people with whom we don’t immediately connect. I’m just saying that it’s harder to make meaningful, personalized observations of people with whom we have less interaction, conversation, and time.

I know that we’re all busy. I know that anything additional to the must-do list can seem like an imposition. But in a world where information is spinning out of control and words are flying at us at what seems like a million miles per minute, maybe we need to make more intentional efforts throw positive words and information into the mix.

So write or say those words. Make those phone calls or send those texts. Mail those cards or place those notes in people’s boxes. Make an intentional effort to notice and connect with someone outside of your immediate comfort and attraction zone.

For when we notice someone—when we truly notice them—it can make all the difference in the world.

One Who Shows Up

I was up until 5 this morning gathering and saving words from 2014. Conversations. Songs. Messages of affirmation. My walls are filled with words—artistic renditions of inspirational sayings, poignant painting titles, memories of the circumstances and words attached with sketches. My paper files are filled with words—cards sent in the mail, notes received at work, scraps of paper collected at retreats. My computer files are filled with words—e-mails, texts, poems, letters. As I’ve said before, words are both my salvation and my kryptonite.

I found some interesting texts last night. Ones that made me think. Ones that allowed me both to reflect backward and imagine forward. And here are the ones that I keep thinking about today:

First, one that I wrote: “I’m listening to a Sara Groves’ CD that I haven’t heard in a few years. Sara Groves is my favorite singer/songwriter. In the song, I think she perfectly captures my desire to know people: ‘And at the risk of wearing out my welcome, at the risk of self discovery, I'll take every moment, and every minute that you'll give me.’”

Next, one that I received during a conversation about a gift-giving crisis that I’ve been having—mainly about how some people willingly accept gifts while others see gifts with strings attached: “You have to choose the right people.”

Finally, one that I received while discussing future vacation plans: “She’s always shown up. I’m going to spend this year focusing on people who show up rather than worrying about the rest.”

…

I wrote a poem the other day:

I saw you as approachable and kind,
A good hearted-soul, called to serve and give.
I gave you my confidence and trust
And you shattered them against the walls of your box.

I cared for you and chose you as friend.
Yet you saw me as someone who singled you out
Not because of genuine desire to know you
But out of malicious intent to do you harm.

I was not your past.

Yet present and future have turned to past
As zoning out with eyes glazed-over is not my idea of friendship.
One-sided conversation with one-word responses void of trust and vulnerability
Is not worth walking on eggshells while carrying the shards of a constantly breaking heart.

I saw you as approachable and kind,
A good hearted-soul, called to serve and give.
I was wrong.
I am cleaning up my mess.
I am leaving you to the walls of your box.

…

I think maybe the right people—
The ones with whom it’s safe to risk self-discovery—
The ones with whom I can rest in the desire to spend
Every moment and minute that they’ll give—
Are the ones who daily choose to step outside the walls of self-preservation,
Show up,
And risk the same.

Dear God,
this year,
help me be a friend who shows up.
And help me
focus on and surround myself
with the same.
Love.
Always, love.
Amen.

Strawberry Salad on Thursday Mornings

“Dear God, thank you for friendship and strawberry salad on Thursday mornings.”

Thus began a four and a half hour lunch date with a dear friend whom I hadn’t seen in over a year. We started our time together with homemade potato chips and ended it with pepperoni pizza. We had salads, sandwiches, and coffee in between, and we talked and talked and talked, both laughing and crying along the way.

Shortly after we parted, I called another dear friend with whom I hadn’t actually spoken in months. We’d been playing phone tag and sending quick texts here and there, but we hadn’t actually talked, and I was feeling the void left by missing our talks.

Conversation is so very important. And words are so very powerful. So for someone who is extraverted and thrives off of words of affirmation, days like today are unusually life-giving.

…

One afternoon while shopping with friends, I found myself magnetically drawn to an area of the store that my friends did not see. It was upstairs, away from everything else, and it was filled with beautiful art. Every piece of art was handmade and depicted a saying that was poignant, humorous, blunt, or wise.

After about fifteen minutes of separation, I heard my friends looking for me. I went to the top of the stairs, looked down, and happily declared, “I’m up here. I found words!”

…

I’ve written about the importance of words in my life before tonight. In fact, I think I once declared myself a word harvester after spending hours saving particularly meaningful and encouraging texts.

So when I hear positive words like,
“I believe that you have all the wisdom you need to make this decision,”
or receive cards in the mail that say,
“Your leading the music at [church] gives our worship services a special mood and effect. Sunday’s service gave me a needed lift,”
I feel very good.

But when I hear negative words like,
“She doesn’t need to speak so much,”
or have someone tell me,
“Everyone in the [group] likes you. Well, maybe not everyone, but almost everyone,”
I feel very bad.

But it’s not just that. I don’t just feel bad. I hear the words over and over again in my mind. They become a broken record that creates so much noise that it drowns out all words of good—and I dare say all words of truth. The power of positive words can be eclipsed by the power of negative words; therefore, as much as words can build me up, they can also tear me down.

Words are both my salvation and my kryptonite.

…

So it’s no wonder that I was so happy when I found words while shopping.
And it’s no wonder that my heart is full tonight after spending hours today talking with friends.
But it’s also no wonder that I’ve been struggling to soften some negative words that surfaced a few weeks ago and have only intensified since.
It’s no wonder that I’ve been struggling to quiet my mind so that I can hear
God’s words of truth.

…

I have a feeling I’m not the only person struggling with words right now.
I have a feeling I’m not the only person in need of more strawberry salad and less condemning noise.
I have a feeling I’m not the only person who needs to hear a clear word from God.

…

May the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in thy sight, oh Lord our God. Our strength and redeemer. Our rock and our salvation. Hear this prayer and guide our paths, oh God.

And bless the hands that prepare our strawberry salad.

Love Heals A Frozen Heart

Monday’s word of the day was ruminate. Ruminate is a verb that means: 1) to go over in the mind repeatedly and often casually or slowly or 2) to chew repeatedly for an extended period. I have been ruminating the movie Frozen ever since seeing it Sunday.

I don’t want to spoil the movie for those of you who haven’t seen it, so I’ll just say this: Sometimes we declare our truths before we’re able fully to embrace them.

Now…I have a feeling that I may be the only person in the world who has written this statement in response to this film, but I’ve spent a lot of time ruminating why Frozen didn’t immediately become my all-time favorite Disney movie and the above statement is why.

Case in point, I started learning a new life-vocabulary at the beginning of March 2007. This vocabulary eventually helped me reframe everything I’d ever known and literally changed my life and worldview.

On March 28, 2007, I wrote my own personal “power ballad” – my own statement of who I am regardless of who the world wants me to be.

Do I believe the words of this song? Absolutely.
But had I fully arrived at living its words? No.
In fact, there are still days when I have trouble living them.
Yet I know they needed to be said when they were said—
Truths declared before I was able fully to embrace them—
Because I know, now, that simply speaking these truths released them into being
And ultimately allowed Love to heal a frozen heart.

Whole
3/28/07

A cloud of yellow comes and settles on my soul
Replacing sheets of white—cold
Nature has been waiting for this yellow on my soul
Agonizing in the pains of death

Tender, warm, new buds they bloom and yellow floods my soul
Bitter, stale the old passes away
My throat is scratchy from the yellow on my soul
My words are hoarse from the dark night

But listen now: this is my voice
It’s bursting into life
Singing with the colors of our God…

Three short months extended into countless draining years
Deceiving lies leading astray
Destructive screaming from this world created chaos here
Whispers of the truth could not be heard

But listen now: this is my voice
This is who I am
Created in the image of our God
Loved not for the things I do
But loved for who I am
And who I am learning to be

I’m not perfect—I will fail
But I believe in God’s grace
I am gifted and unique
I am worthy of God’s grace
I’m authentic—I’m okay
And I stand upon God’s grace
I’m on a journey—not alone
I’m a member of God’s grace

So listen now: this is my voice
This is who I am
Created in the image of our God
Loved not for the things I do
But loved for who I am
And who I am learning to be

Yes, listen now: this is my voice
It’s bursting into life
Singing with the colors of our God…

A cloud of yellow comes and settles on my soul
Replacing broken sheets—whole…

A Music Making, Word Collecting, Hair Farmer

I am a hair farmer and collector of words.
Growing and gleaning.
Waiting and acting.
Giving and receiving.
Encouraging and being encouraged.
I am a “music maker and dreamer of dreams.
A mover and shaker of the world forever it seems.”

Who are you, dear reader?
Dear, wonderful child of God?

Some Monday Thoughts

When dad said it was time for Bullet to go home tonight, Bullet leapt off the couch, stretched, and turned toward home. Dad walked Bullet home, put him on the porch, and walked back to the house. Before he could get back into the house through the back door, however, Bullet had returned through the garage. Evidently, Bullet didn’t want to stay home tonight. He just wanted to go for a walk.

…

Last Thursday was my brother’s birthday. I was going to write my Thursday note in honor of him and some of the most important things he’s taught me, but I was so tired after last week’s on call that I could barely think. So here are the basics that you need to know:

• Plays in backyard football and basketball are easily made and explained through x’s, o’s, and arrows in the palms of sweaty hands.

• If you have a choice between doing something memorable and life-enriching and studying or working all night, then do the something memorable and life-enriching. Ten years from now, you likely won’t remember the night of studying or working, but you will remember the event. Disclaimer: This doesn’t mean not to study or work at all. Study some. Do whatever work you need to do. But set a limit and live.

• Going to see musicals and plays can be somewhat expensive, yes. But if it’s something you value, then do what you can to make it happen. We all spend money on what we value, and there are much worse things than plays and musicals.

• Most songs can be played with three chords on the guitar. G, C, D. Em is a good one to know, too.

…

I have very little patience with or grace for persons who intentionally and unapologetically take advantage of senior citizens and children--but specifically on my mind today is senior citizens. Companies and businesses that send confusing mail to persons with dementia or make persistent phone calls to persons who are lonely are bad enough, but friends and family members who overstep their bounds do nothing less than disgust me. Good intentions gone wrong are one thing. Investments fail and monetary mistakes happen. Inappropriate behavior apologized for and steps taken toward redemption can be forgiven somewhat easily. Humility goes a long way. But unabashed credit card use in a parent’s name. Repetitive requests for loans. Valuables disappearing after family visits. Gifts taken but rarely given. I cannot fathom the thoughts that motivate these actions. I guess it’s the brokenness of the human condition—the deep-rooted, life-sucking weed of sin that separates us from the mark of honest, selfless love.

…

I got to see a few out of town friends this weekend. In the process, I met three newborn babies, fed one of them, heard one amazing valedictorian speech, learned to pop popcorn, saw Despicable Me, visited brother bears and baby koala at the zoo, had lovely conversations, and walked away with these words of encouragement:

“I admire how you’ve handled life over the past few months and grown from all that’s happened. It seems like your heart could be so heavy—and I know it is heavy sometimes—but you’ve kept going. And you’ve been become a stronger person. And I really admire that. You’re one of my favorite people, [Deanna]. I hope you know that.”

I am so grateful.

Who Cleaned The Dishes?

Many years ago, when I was teaching school, a teacher came to work on Good Friday dressed as the Easter Bunny. I’ll never forget how upset one of my good friends was at the time. She explained to me that the mood of Good Friday should not be one of festivity, not just because we, as Christians, remember Jesus’ death, but because we, as Christians, are living in the present while Jesus and the disciples are living in the past while God and the unknown are living in the future. All time, she said, is occurring simultaneously. God, she said, is a God who transcends time. Jesus, she said, was suffering again while our colleague was hopping around like the Easter Bunny.

I thought about that conversation as I cleaned the kitchen tonight. I have since lost touch with both the Easter Bunny teacher and the friend who shared her mind-boggling theological view with me. I thought losing touch—how some relationships fade naturally and some are jolted to an end by hurt and betrayal. I thought about Judas and Jesus—the times they shared together, the laughter, the tears, the meals. And I thought about that last meal—the one whose remembrance I was missing because I’ve been home sick today.

I’ve spent the majority of this Maundy Thursday asleep. I woke up to eat lunch. I read a little bit. I went back to sleep. I woke up to eat supper. I took my mom to church. I cleaned the kitchen. I washed the dishes with the purple Palmolive to which the above-mentioned friend introduced me. And then I thought:

Who cleaned up after that Last Supper?

After Jesus and his disciples ate, sang a hymn, and went to the Garden of Gethsemane, there was an empty room. And in that empty room, there were some empty dishes—or at least partially empty, dirty dishes. I think of the song lyric from Les Mis, “Empty chairs at empty tables,” and I wonder what the empty chairs and empty tables looked like in that room that night [although I realize that there may not have been any chairs at all because of cultural differences]. I wonder what the room felt like after the energy, excitement, confusion, shock, sadness, and heaviness of the persons in the room walked out. And then I wonder who came behind and cleaned up what was left.

Was it a man? A woman? A child? A friend? An enemy? A stranger?

Did he/she walk into the room and feel that something special had occurred there? Did he/she walk into the room and just begin to clean?

Did he/she think about the persons who had been in the room? Did he/she have other things from Passover week on his/her mind?

I know that these questions will never be answered. I know that in the scheme of life it really doesn’t matter. Yet. Somehow. Tonight. It matters to me. The person who comes behind matters. The person who cleans up matters. The person who cleans his plate matters. The person who leaves food on her plate matters. The teacher who dresses like the Easter Bunny matters. The friend whose theology makes my brain hurt matters. The person who sticks close matters. The person who betrays matters. The person whose story is written in history matters. The person whose memory isn’t really considered matters.

I, sick and unable to attend community worship, matter.

You, reading this now, matter.

And the next time you clean up your kitchen, or someone else’s, remember that fact, okay?

PS. Because I couldn't break bread with a faith community tonight, I broke bread by myself as I cleaned...and the bread that I broke was a fresh loaf made by a dear friend. The experience was actually quite holy.

Maybe I'm Not An Idiot Editor

"Why is Deanna posting a note today? It is not Monday or Thursday,” you might ask and say. ‘Tis true, dear friends, ‘tis true. However, I will not be near a computer tomorrow because I’ll be traveling to Atlanta and back for work and then going to opening night of Bowling Season #3! And so…I write today.

Not surprisingly, I’m still thinking about words. On Monday I mentioned that my primary love language is words of affirmation. I stated that I need words like I need air. And I do. I suppose that’s why I have two cards sitting in my inbox right now so that I can easily reach and read them. I received one card on Tuesday. I received the other card today. Each was very simple, yet both had a profound impact on me.

Card One. This card is from a 71-year-old woman who feels a burning desire to begin an Acteens group in her church. God has lain it upon her heart that teenagers need a safe space to come, grow, and be heard, and she wants to create that space through Acteens because she loves missions even more than she loves teenagers. She is so excited about starting her group that she came to two church trainings and gave me a huge hug at the end of the second. Then she sent a card that read:

Outside: There are things only you can do, and you are alive to do them. In the great orchestra we call life, you have an instrument and a song, and you owe it to God to play them both sublimely (Max Lucado). Inside: Play on. Handwritten text: Thank you.

Those two simple words—thank you—coupled with the musical theme of the card—mean so much to me…

Card Two. This card is from an 85+-year-old woman who has supported SC WMU for more decades than I have been alive. It wasn’t actually sent to me, but Boss brought it to me because of its content. It says:

Just want to let you and the staff know what a great job you did on the last issue of the Missions Link. Thanks!


Now, I can’t take much credit for Link because I’m just the text editor, but…still…I often feel like an idiot of an editor, so reading this simple statement helps me believe that I’m not that much of an idiot editor :-).

Have you recently received any words—expected, unexpected, spoken, or written—that have impacted you in a positive way? If so, please share.

I truly believe that words have power and that when we intentionally share kind words—good words—words that build up rather than tear down—then we are sharing words of love that come from the heart of God.

Words

My primary love language is words of affirmation. I need words like I need air. As such, words have the tremendous capacity to build me up or tear me down. I carry this knowledge with me every day. Yet I started thinking about it even more Sunday at church…and I have continued to think about it throughout the day today. And so…I think you should think about words, too :-).

Take a few moments to slowly, and possibly dramatically, read the following text from James. Then reflect: what is this text saying to you? What is it saying to us as a society today? Should we spend more time focusing on words we should NOT say or words that we should? Very simply, what are your thoughts on the power of words?

Not many of you should become teachers, my fellow believers, because you know that we who teach will be judged more strictly. We all stumble in many ways. Anyone who is never at fault in what they say is perfect, able to keep their whole body in check.

When we put bits into the mouths of horses to make them obey us, we can turn the whole animal. Or take ships as an example. Although they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are steered by a very small rudder wherever the pilot wants to go.

Likewise, the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark. The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole body, sets the whole course of one’s life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell.

All kinds of animals, birds, reptiles and sea creatures are being tamed and have been tamed by mankind, but no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison. With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God’s likeness.

Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this should not be. Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring? My brothers and sisters, can a fig tree bear olives, or a grapevine bear figs? Neither can a salt spring produce fresh water. James 3:1-12