Our tongues have the power to rip apart or put back together. We can use it for a gift or use it as a weapon. No matter which we choose, we are still making a difference — either a good or bad one.

I am not a woman of few words — most of the time, I have too many words. That’s what people tell me, at least. And by people, I mean my husband.

Really, though, I do have an abundance of words that store up throughout the day, and when Shawn arrives home in the evening, they all just spill out. I vomit my day right onto his work boots — before they barely even get into the door.

I don’t think it’s my fault, though, and that’s because Dr. Phil said so.

About ten years ago — and one of the few times Shawn and I ever watched Dr. Phil — he said that men have a word quota of about 13,000 less words per day than the average woman.  I don’t really know how that kind of thing is determined or tallied, but I can see the evidence of it at my house. 

We have a word ratio of his one “Uh-huh” to my 200 babbling words about what the dog did on the floor and how many times Logan asked me to “Guess what!” And then when I guessed what, he just sat there trying to think of something to say. 

That’s never a problem with me, as I rarely have nothing to say. Even if it’s awkward — I’m going to come up with something. That’s not always a good thing, though, because speaking is a big deal. 

Words are powerful — and to quote Spiderman’s uncle, “With great power comes great responsibility.” 

Words can breathe hope or shatter you into pieces, and sometimes they are what you hold onto just to keep going.

At 18-years old, I worked at a nursing home for a short time, and I often watched in wonder as this little lady daily rocked in her chair holding onto a note.

She unfolded it. And refolded it.

She read it over and over again, with a faraway look.

One day when she was out of her room, I snuck over to where it sat and so very carefully unfolded it.

"Love you."

That's all it said. It was unsigned, undated, and the writing in pencil was somewhat faded. As I returned it to her favorite spot, I wondered who wrote it.

Maybe her husband left it after a fight. Or maybe it was all she had left of a long-lost lover. Maybe her daughter wrote it when she got married, or her son left it before he deployed.

Maybe she found it on the floor at just the right time. To know love still existed in the world.

We will never know. While it broke my heart that it seemed to be all she had, I saw the powerful message of it.

Those two words were everything to her. It was a quick gesture (I assume) but made a lasting impact. Whoever left it behind could have never guessed what it would one day mean.

We just never know what God will one day use to make a difference.

Friends, we can help feed the hungry — and we should. We can reach out through missions -- and that's necessary. We can stand in front of a crowd and preach the gospel to the masses — well, I can't because I stutter and spit when public speaking, but someone needs to.

But this small thing is something you can do every single day—speak life. Words are so much more important than we know. A bleeding heart can be healed, and a thirty soul can be quenched, sometimes with just a few words.

Encouragement. Friendship. Heart.

Our tongues have the power to rip apart or put back together. We can use it for a gift or use it as a weapon. No matter which we choose, we are still making a difference — either a good or bad one.

Be it in a few words, many words, or just enough to meet your quota of the day, we have the power and we have the responsibly.

Spiderman’s uncle says so.