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Words. I’ve had a life-long love affair with them. I’ve been enthralled with them for as long as I can remember, loving the sound and shapes they create and conjure up in my mind. I remember being ten years old and so engrossed in the book “Roots” that I would forgo free swim at summer camp, preferring the pages of a book that I was clearly too young to understand to a pool filled with my screaming peers. Why? Because of the words.
In my high school creative writing class, my love for words exploded into a full-fledged obsession. There I learned how playing with them, moving them, using them, and manipulating them could move hearts and souls. I was an angsty little thing back in the day, fueled by bad hair and acne, and my favorite piece I wrote was this ridiculous poem that I was convinced was the most brilliant thing ever put to page. Looking back, it was total nonsense, this long long angst filled love poem using words in contrast–“If I could, would I? If you would, could you?” It makes me cringe just to think of the people I exposed to my nonsense, believing I had created a new way to do poetry using words to play on each other.
I was wrong, you know. Because, well, there was this childrens author named Dr. Seuss that had been doing it for years and years and years before I came along.
Teenagers are dumb. I clearly was no exception.
Anyway, I guess it’s not surprise then that words have been weighing heavily on my mind these past few days. They’ve been sitting on my heart, the things we say to each other, the way we use words so carelessly. This past week I’ve watched people I love dearly be hurt deeply by words, I’ve watched my kids struggle through the process of understanding how words can hurt and cause pain, and I’ve personally had words cut deep, pressing on softer, not yet healed places of my heart.
And I’m mad about it all.
Words are powerful. They are energy and thought and emotion put out into the world to be absorbed, to do damage or to create life. They are almost never neutral. They are barbed or they are soft, and how they are combined and contorted matters. Tone matters. Context matters. But the actual words, they matter the most.
I’ve become tired of how casual we are with the words we put into life. I don’t buy any longer that all is fair in love and war and that jokes cover a multitude of sins. Hiding behind humor is cowardice. Cruel hurtful words are just that, whether they are in a punchline or they are spoken in frustration or anger or hurt. The effect is the same.
We can all agree that there is enough ugly out there in this world. There is war, there are drugs and addiction, politics are enough to make our head spin and social media gave every Tom, Dick and Harry a platform to share their ugly out to the world with little consequence.
Because, you know, free speech and all….
There are things we think, things we feel, that don’t deserve the validation they receive from being spoken into life. Though it’s really hard for us to process, even as adults, our thoughts and feelings aren’t always truth. They aren’t always light and life. In fact, they can be tricky little devils in themselves, twisting things and distorting truth and life for a purpose I don’t even understand. But when we speak them, friends, we give them life. We give them energy.
Do we need to give criticism and disapproval life if it’s not spoken in helpful love? Do we need to speak mockery and disdain into this world? Do we need to cut down others to feel better about our own state? Do we need to speak that awful, awful joke into existence?
Maybe we’ve forgotten the power of words because we are surrounded by constant chatter. I don’t know. There’s very little time for us to sit in quiet and listen to our own internal chatter, the words we speak to ourselves. I know for a long time I filled every spare second with noise and sounds, afraid to sit in the silence and hear my own words. Because the words I was speaking to myself were not life, they were not love, and they definitely were not truth. They didn’t deserve breath to be put into life, yet I spoke them into my soul every second of every day.
And then one day, after bringing the ugly truths I thought of myself into the light of day because they had just caused too much damage for me to ignore one second longer, I decided that enough was enough. Words matter, even the ones I spoke to myself. And I decided to speak life, only life, into my own soul and to those around me. I also made some clear distinctions about the words I would put into my life from others, changing my music, the shows I watched and the words that I read.
And what a difference that makes. The less ugly that I allow to surround me, the quieter the ugly in my mind. The more light I allow to seep into my soul through words of truth and love, the less the ugly spoken around and to me can pierce my soul and alter the words I speak to myself.
Friends, words matter. The things we hear enough we believe. The words and music and movies we expose our children to, they matter.
This is warfare, here, warfare for our hearts and our souls. It’s not a joke. It’s not funny. It hurts and we can stop it at any time. We can take the power back from our words. Because we can control whether they see life or not.
Friends, my challenge to you, and to myself really (especially when stuck in traffic), is to speak life. Just life. Say the things you want to hear, speak the life and love you want to exist in this world, and they will. We have that power. Take the darkness away by refusing to give it life.
And, after all of this deepness and soapbox-y Meaghan time, I thought I’d give you a light and fun recipe. Something that soothes souls, just a little, both young and old. Is there anything more summer and light and fresh than a popsicle? I don’t really think so. And, yes, I admit you can buy some pretty killer ones out there now with the gourmet popsicle world exploding (yes, that’s a thing). But making your own can be pretty fun. The kids love to help make them and the combinations are endless. Why wait for someone to make the popsicle combo you’ve dreamed about for years? Make it yourself?
For these berries and cream popsicles, I combined the delicious base of vanilla ice cream with the tang and tartness of berries. I didn’t add too much sugar to the berries as I cooked them down, largely because I like the contrast. But feel free to add if you want more sweetness. And I highly recommend investing in a good popsicle mold. Believe me, I’ve tried every cheapo one on the planet; it does make a difference. I love The Little Epicurean
Berries and Cream Popsicles
Ingredients
- For the berries:
- 3 cups frozen mixed berries (or single berry of your choice)
- 3 tablespoons maple syrup
- For the cream:
- 2 cups heavy cream (do not sub in half and half, it won't freeze)
- 2 tablespoons maple syrup
- 1 teaspoon vanilla
Directions
- Step 1 In a heavy bottom saucepan heat berries and syrup together over low heat, mashing with a potato masher or fork, as they cook. Turn off heat and set aside to briefly cool when liquid has formed.
- Step 2 Once cooled, run quickly through a blender to get any final clumps out of the berries (this is optional but I find kids like it better this way).
- Step 3 In a medium bowl, mix cream, syrup and vanilla together until combined.
- Step 4 Pour two tablespoons of the berry mixture in the bottom of each mold and set in the freezer for 15 minutes.
- Step 5 Once chilled, add one tablespoon of cream to the top. Set back in freezer for 15 more minutes.
- Step 6 Add two more tablespoons of berries to the top of the cream, chilling for 10 more minutes.
- Step 7 Add cream to the top of each mold and then insert sticks.
- Step 8 Freeze for 4-6 hours or overnight.
- Step 9 ENJOY!
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Welcome to BurntToast! My name is Meaghan, and this is my safe space, a place where we can share stories, share recipes and share life. It’s my dream that you can come here, kick your shoes off and pour yourself a glass of wine while you read, laugh, and maybe even hop into the kitchen. This is my heart, for all of you to see. And ALL are welcome here.
What a thoughtful post! I was not expecting such a prompt when I clicked to read your recipe. It’s amazing how that childhood saying « Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me » couldn’t be more false… Each person makes choices with the words they use and their impact, positive or negative, can leave residual effects.