Words.

I love words.

And they're pretty powerful things. More so, I think, than we give them credit.

I was recently given the opportunity to write my autobiography for my Spiritual Autobiography in the Wesleyan Tradition class. Upon initially hearing about this final project at the beginning of the semester, I felt nothing short of daunted and had no clue about what to say or how to begin telling my own story (Trust me, it's harder than you'd think!). 

As time passed and my classmates and I learned more and more about the power of stories, the themes throughout them, and the words with which they're told, I slowly began to get excited about the countless possibilities for transcribing my own autobiography. 

I've now finished writing, and I can honestly say that it has been one of the most fulfilling experiences of my life. Cathartic and nostalgic, the writing process opened parts of my brain that I promise hadn't been used since the memories I was typing onto the page originally took place. I loved thinking back that far, recalling stories I had been told about myself and reliving memories I actually remembered for myself.

My Mum was the only one with which I shared my entire autobiography after it had been edited and submitted to my professor. It's fitting, really, that she be the person I share it with because she knew almost all (if not all) of the stories and memories that I included within it. There were a few specific people  mentioned throughout the vast amount of pages who were very influential during my formative years, and Mom suggested copying and pasting the parts about these women to them in a Facebook message. (Because, yes, I'm Facebook friends with my childhood babysitter, choir director, and first grade teacher. Technology is pretty cool, I guess. :) ) A little reluctant at first, I asked these amazing women if they would like to read their parts in my story. Each of them agreed and, after reading, conveyed to me how much they appreciated me taking the time to share it (such a seemingly simple thing) with them.

This project not only taught me the significance of personal story, sharing these stories with one another and learning from them. It also reemphasized the notions that it's important to "say what you mean and mean what you say" and to tell people what they mean to you whenever you can.

I can only speak for myself, but, being the loudmouth that I am, I often forget to consider how my words actually come across when they're delivered. I also forget that what I say can hurt others, and such a lack of consideration for words simultaneously devalues the very beauty that they have the ability to provide. I also think we should take every opportunity to tell the ones who've impacted our lives that they have done just that...because chances are, whether we realize it or not, they're still impacting our lives today and will probably continue to do so in the future. 

It matters.
Words matter.

I say, let's choose them wisely--using them to give life and love in any way we can.