As women, we find ourselves talking all the time — whether it’s over coffee with a friend, a late-night chat with our husbands or a quick phone call to check in with a family member. Words seem to come so naturally.
I often apologize for all of my words, but my husband has told me many times that my words are a window into my heart. They show what’s really going on inside. Reflecting on this, it’s humbling to realize that someone is seeing that whole picture, especially the someone whom I love so very much. I’m just as guilty as anyone of not realizing how my words can reflect the condition of my heart.
I remember a time in my life when I was under so much stress. I had many babies in diapers, a husband who traveled frequently, and I was juggling the needs of my family, my marriage and my faith. In those moments, I wasn’t always proud of the words that I thought or the ones that came out of my mouth. Sometimes they were sharp or impatient. And when I stopped and thought about it later, I realized that wasn’t the me I wanted to be. But I didn’t know how to change it on my own. It was in those moments that God gently whispered to my heart: “Let’s work on this together, MaryBeth.” The truth of the matter is, He’s still working on it.
As a mother of 23 years and a wife of 28, I’ve learned a thing or two about the grace that comes with time, about how marriage and motherhood teach you humility in ways you didn’t expect. In those early days of motherhood, I thought I had it all figured out. I had this idealistic view of what being a mother should look like, and my words often reflected that pressure. But after more than two decades of raising children, I’ve learned that it’s the messy, imperfect moments that God works through the most. He uses the days when I’ve lost my patience or when my words were sharper than I intended to remind me that I need Him more than ever. Humility has been one of my greatest teachers.
The Book of Sirach teaches us that “The fruit of a tree shows the care it has had; so speech discloses the bent of a person’s heart.” (Sirach 27:6) Our speech reveals what’s happening deep down in our hearts. Think about that for a moment. What’s coming out of our mouths is often a reflection of our inner life. It’s like a mirror that doesn’t lie. If I’m constantly speaking words of frustration, gossip or pressure, what does that say about what’s going on inside me? If I’m quick to offer words of encouragement, what does that show about the peace in my heart? I remember fondly a song we used to sing in the car with the kids, quoting Philippians: “Encourage one another and build each other up.”
As a mother, I’ve noticed something: The very things I often feel most compelled to correct in my children are often the things I need to work on in myself. I might get frustrated with my child for being impatient, and then realize that impatience is creeping into my own heart. Or I might find myself correcting them for raising their voice in anger, or not balancing their priorities, and in the same breath feel that tug of conviction in my own heart, recognizing that I’ve done the same.
Our children, in many ways, hold up a mirror to us, revealing the areas where we need God’s grace the most. It’s a humbling realization but also an opportunity for growth. Instead of seeing those moments as frustrations, I try to see them as invitations to reflect on my own heart and words, and to ask God for the strength to lead by example.
There was a particular evening not too long ago when the day had been hard and long and patience was running thin and yet one of my children needed to talk through something that had happened at school that day. Lately, it seems their talking time is my going to bedtime, but God provides. As we walked through the issue that needed to be discussed, I realized that I was losing steam. Focus was waning and I just wanted to go to bed. Instead of pausing and asking for a regroup in the morning, I pressed on even while knowing that my threshold for this was very low. As expected, I snapped, feelings were hurt and that child turned away hurt.
I believe in modeling, owning up to your mistakes. If my children see this witness, then they might carry this example with them and realize that we all make mistakes. So instead of brushing my rough words under the rug, I took a deep breath and asked him to come sit with me. I told that child that I should have shared where my talking meter was at for the evening and that even though school had some hard moments, and we had some hard moments, they don’t have to define the relationship.
So we began again. We prayed together right there, thanking God for grace, and I was reminded of the humility that comes with being a mother. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about teaching them that even when we fall short, God’s mercy is a beautiful cushion to land upon — and from there, we learn and grow.
In the words of St. Teresa of Avila, “Christ has no body now but yours, no hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes with which he looks with compassion on this world. Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good. Yours are the hands with which he blesses all the world.” Our words are an extension of Christ’s presence in the world — our words, as mothers and wives, are a living example of God’s love. When we speak with humility, grace, and wisdom, we invite His presence into our lives and into the lives of those we love. May we always strive to speak with His heart