He wouldn’t stop bouncing. He bounced as we headed upstairs. He bounced as I tried to undress him. He was bouncing in the bathtub. And I wasn’t in the mood. I was done. My husband was away on business and the boys and I had done well all week. But as the week was coming to an end, I was growing weary. My youngest child, on the other hand, was still bouncing. All efforts to stop the bouncing had been wholly unsuccessful.

I could feel a surge of frustration well up inside me, but I stopped it. I wouldn’t yell, I wouldn’t beg, I was not going to lose my patience, or worse, my temper. I simply picked the boy up out of the bath, dried him off, put him in his jammies, and put him to bed. I did all that in complete silence. When I turned out his light and started to close the door, he piped up, “Aren’t you going to sing me a lullaby?”

“No,” I answered, “I’m done with you.” I closed the door and walked away.

As I sat reading with my older son, my conscience started talking to me. I tried to ignore it. After all, my conscience hadn’t had to deal with the bouncing. What did it know? But it persisted. No, I hadn’t yelled or lost my temper, but I hadn’t left things quite right. I had to go back.

When I opened the door to Leyton’s room, he wasn’t bouncing. He was sitting up in his bed, perfectly still. He looked at me with eyes filled to the brim with tears. And in the huskiest voice, softly asked, “Are you going to sell me?”

“WHAT?”  He may as well have hit me with a two by four. “No, I’m not going to sell you. I would never sell you! What made you think of a thing like that?” I was stunned.

“Well, whenever we’re done with things in this house, you sell them.” And just like that, my love affair with Craigslist came back to haunt me.

I scooped that sweet boy up, wrapped my arms around him and reassured him. We sell toys when we’re done with them. But he was loved and cherished and secure in our family. I apologized to him over and over again and told him that I was just tired and needed a break. I was looking forward to getting some rest that evening.

“Then, Mom,” he said, “you should have said that you were done with me for the night. When you said that you were done with me, I thought you were done with me forever.” (Insert knife and twist it here.)

The truth is that I shouldn’t have said that I was done with him at all. The words should not have slipped from my lips. I had left his room so pleased with myself for not losing my temper, that I almost gave myself a pass for being careless.

The Bible talks about carelessness and it strongly advises against it. Many of us know that we are not to purposely and overtly say and do things to hurt others. Neither are we to be careless.

Proverbs 12:18 says, “The words of the reckless pierce like swords, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.” (NIV)

That pretty much summed it up for me. With one rash, heedless statement, I had pierced my little boys’ heart with a verbal sword. I hadn’t purposefully set out to hurt him. But I did. No amount of weariness on my part justified that.

We are called to bring healing to people who cross our paths. We are called to build each other up in love (Ephesians 4:29). We are not called to be purposefully hurtful. And we are not called to be careless.

Have you let any careless words pierce someone else’s soul lately? Has your conscience been after you about that? Do you have any apologies to make? I know I do. Why don’t you ask God to help you make your apologies this week and allow him to take control of your tongue? See how often he stops those careless words before they leave your lips. Let him turn your careless words into words of healing. And discover how just this simple change can transform you and your relationships. The holidays are coming. Family will abound. What a great opportunity to put Proverbs 12:18 into practice!