Mom & Son: Truth with Kindness

Mother and Son: Truth with Kindness

Mother

We must speak the truth with kindness. Use your words to add beauty to life. Ecclesiastics 12:9-10 states that the wise teacher “pondered and searched out to set in order many proverbs. He searched to find just the right words and what he wrote was upright and true.”

The first thing we must do is a little investigation to make sure that our fact is indeed true. We can be, oh so sure, something is true and later on, down the line, find we are mistakened. We must make sure the source and the transmitter are both reliable.

Telling the truth at all times is not an easy task. One must also consider the sensitivity of the listener. The right moment to speak also has to be considered. Certainly not during an argument or at the end of a long exhausting day. One must also consider if this bit of information will be an encouragement and a positive force for growth.

Ephesians 4:15 states to speak “the truth in love.” Your tone of voice necessitates a loving tone. Look into the person’s eyes. Remember, the truth can hurt and subsequently be rejected if spoken from an unloving heart. The similieof truth as a 2-edged sword is intended for use on our enemies, not on our friends or loved ones..

Son

coming soon…

Mother and Son: Introduction

Mother and Son: Introduction (Work in process)

I always knew she was a writer. She always had a comfy chair in each place that she lived. The chair, tucked in a quiet corner, typically next to a window, always had an end table to one side and a reading lamp to the other side. The end table had small piles of books including her journals.

She loved pens too. Mostly purple, but blue would do. Her journals rested on the corner of the end table, ontop of three or four spiral notebooks, that would hold a pen or two.

I never asked about her writing, I’m sad to say. She did tell me of a few articles that she submitted to publication and I believe a few were published.

Then she died on July 29, 2018. I received little from her. Just her ashes, some photos, and several boxes of her writings including a heafty amount of spiral notebooks and journals. Some of the notebooks and journals were filled and some had a few used¬† pages. I’m guilty of that too. And in digging though the boxes of memories, I relized that I, too, am much like my mom.

In a conversation that I had with her about 10 years ago about writing,

I told her that I’d publish something that she wrote.

She journaled daily when she was younger. Her journaling became less frequent when she was in her eighties. And as the years progressed, her backpain and parkinsons ate more and more into her writing time. But her journal writing became instructions of how to live a good life. Perhaps to me? Her wayward son?

So as I continue to plow through her writings, I have distilled what she had in her journals, perhaps said to me beyond the grave, and I have replied to her acknowledging her life wisdom. And like a good son, I provide my interpretation and often times snarky yet loving commentary to what she had to say.

I was left with so little tangibles from her life, except for her ashes, pictures and journals.  xxx And know, only a few months later after digging into her notes, stories, partially outlined novels, I realized that I was left so much more.

With love,

Son