Word Power

That Lord of the Flies post from Amy Loves Words struck me in the gut. I keep thinking about word-power. And I don't necessarily mean the word-power of good writing; I mean how words--spoken or written directly about and to us--have the power to define, limit, destroy, heal, empower and change us.

Amy was only asking the students to play a role; yet for the duration of the exercise, those phrases formed them. The descriptions almost possessed them.

I thought of a conversation I had with Jenne years ago about parenting. She warned me not to label the kids. She told me how she resented the labels people inadvertantly placed on her sister and her. They meant well when they said things like: "Jenne, she's the funny one" and "Carrie's the smart one." But without meaning to, people placed limitations on the girls, and Jenne was left trying to make jokes all the time and not worry so much about grades; while Carrie, who is hilarious, may have felt compelled to ace every test and not fully develop her wit.

Jenne has certainly proven to be funny. Dang, my abs get a workout from laughing so hard at some of her posts! But she's also incredibly intelligent and gorgeous and resilient and profound and about a million other amazing things. And so is Carrie!

Jenne's advice has replayed in my head often through the years. As The Belgian Wonder and I raise four very different people, I've felt tempted to refer to them according to their standout characteristics. It's hard to resist, because it's true that each one seems to have special traits that rise above others, but it's also true that the others may have this trait in abundance as well, and I don't want them to think that one sibling has it and the others don't.

But then I struggle with helping them identify gifts and interests, so that they can pursue a fulfilling course of study and hopefully end up in a job that "fits." I want them to figure out what comes easily to them, so they can help people and serve the world. To start saying, "The Boy, he's the performer" contradicts Jenne's early advice.

What's a mother to do?

I think back to my own perception of self as a child. I think my mom and dad resisted labels, too; yet people must have said something along the lines of Jenne and Carrie's friends and relatives, because I somehow I came away with the following beliefs: My brother was the musician and really creative word person, the writer. I was the athlete.

When I think back to actual conversations, I recall people saying, "Annie, you can be or do anything you want, if you set your mind to it." This may have been a reference to my stubbornness, but the intent was to set me free. Still, I came away with the feeling that I wasn't much of a musician and while I loved to write, my brother was the writer. I didn't even bother to study writing in college until a friend insisted I take a creative writing class. He knew I secretly loved to write, but that I didn't believe I had what it took. That's because I believed my brother had hogged all the writing genes--that it wasn't possible we could both be writers. I believed I must have some other "gift," but couldn't figure out what. I wasn't enough of an athlete to compete at the university level, so there I was "the athlete," with no future as a track star. So as a sophomore, at the prodding of this friend, I signed up for Creative Writing 101 and loved it. Hm, maybe I could be a writer, too, of a different sort from my brother.

One time my grandmother wrote me a letter that said, "Thanks for your note. It was very well organized and easy to read. Maybe there's another writer in the family!" Me? A writer? Later two creative writing instructors said some encouraging words about my poems about dirt, and I began to imagine that I, too, might become a writer. And a supervisor at my first job out of college affirmed my writing skills, as well. So while I resist labeling, maybe there is something empowering about pointing out strengths in a person. My grandma's letter was like the slip of paper that helped define me, "You are a writer with something to say." I embraced it and eventually started to live it. Was Grandma prophetic, or did I simply snatch that encouragement as an outside affirmation of what I hoped to be true? Eventually I became a writer. I lived what she suggested.

In a recent post about words, author Mary DeMuth pondered several that stood out to her. You can read it yourself, but I'll just toss out the words she mentioned:

Play.

Health.

Freedom.

Abundance.

After the comments rolled in with a few additional suggestions, she tossed out a slightly altered list that included:

Play.

Simplify.

Rest.

No Condemnation (that's two words, but that's okay).

Freedom.

Then she added, "Imagine what our lives would look like if we lived like these were realities in our lives?"

Imagine. We might actually become them.