Words

Most of you know my son Brock – or at least know of him. He is my husband’s and my constant companion. Since Brock can’t be left alone, he goes everywhere we go. That’s okay, we kind of like having him around. (insert huge smile!)

Brock is a big guy – over 6 feet tall and a bit chunky like his mom – but that’s not always been his story. Picture him when he was 5-years-old. Fairly tall for his age but skinny as a bean pole, not for lack of food. Man, could he eat!

He was a cute little guy who could tug at one’s heartstrings with a mischievous grin and a twinkle in his eye, but at the same time that was an emotionally difficult year for us. Brock had developed normally as a toddler, then when he was nearly 3-years-old he began losing verbal skills (though he still had a lot of words in his arsenal) and his behavior was challenging at best. I feared something was wrong and at my urging my husband and I took Brock from doctor to doctor, each one as clueless as the one before. That year found us in a pediatrician’s office, seeking answers. We asked if he thought Brock might be autistic. His reply was no, because Brock was too affectionate and he was verbal. (We learned that at that time, nearly 95% of people with an autism diagnosis did not speak at all.)

The pediatrician referred us to a child psychologist to see if he could determine what was wrong. Brock and I went to that appointment. First the doctor met with the two of us together (which was chaotic with Brock acting out quite a bit) and then with Brock by himself. I was told to come back for a follow-up appointment (without Brock) to receive the doctor’s evaluation. To say I was unprepared for that appointment would be an understatement.

The psychologist proceeded to condemn me with his harsh words – saying there was nothing wrong with Brock, I was the problem. My parenting allowed Brock to behave the way he did, according to the child psychologist. I felt like he chewed me up and spit me out; then sent me on my way.

I went home in tears and felt like a total failure as a mom. Thanks to the loving encouragement and words of wisdom from my husband, I slowly began to heal from that barrage of hurtful words from a professional, though I can honestly say those words still haunt me at times.

Months later (and after some trial and error) we finally had answers, thanks to the professionals in another city. Though autism was a fairly uncommon term in those days, unlike today, after intensive tests, it was determined that Brock was autistic. They referred to it as “classic autism” as he met almost every criterion of autism. The only exceptions were his verbal skills and his affectionate interaction with people.

While Brock’s ability to speak delayed his diagnosis I will forever be grateful that he has language skills. No, his communication is not as sophisticated as yours and mine, but he can communicate the essentials, though sometimes it means knowing the right questions to ask. And let me assure you, there’s nothing this mama loves more than a great big hug from Brock (affection) but this article is about words, so I’ll not elaborate on that.

Many years later there was a time when I feared Brock would never speak again. We’d taken our three (teenagers at the time) on a small vacation – spending a couple of nights in a hotel with an indoor waterpark. We had so much fun! Swimming, sliding, going on the lazy river, etc. On the day we were to leave we were planning to spend one last hour in the water. Brock wasn’t having it! He was ready to go home. It seemed unfair to our other two to do that, so I told Brock we were staying for a bit more fun in the water. While my husband and the other two went to the water, Brock and I stayed behind in the room. Brock was angry! That is one of only a handful of times I’ve seen Brock angry in his life and the only time he was angry at me. He cried. Loudly. But he would not say a word. At all. I thought I had taken his verbal skills away from him and I was distraught.

In those moments, the hateful words of the child psychologist came back to me and I felt like a failure.

Fortunately, the situation de-escalated and Brock began speaking again, but I will never forget that feeling of total defeat.

Words.

What lessons can we learn from this article about words?

1. Words are a joy. We strive to teach our children to speak almost from the moment they are born. “Say ma-ma.” “Say daddy.” We thrill at their first words and are eager to hear them say even more words. Imagine how our Father thrills at hearing our words. He longs for us to speak to Him. To share our joys and our heartaches. To call Him by name. Father God.
2. Words are revealing. They draw attention to things that need to be addressed. In Brock’s case, words came easy at first; then he began struggling with communication. That led us to seek answers; to find out what was going on with our precious son. I have a sister who has advanced frontal lobal dementia. At this point she can only speak two words, but those words mean multiple things. Communicating with her is challenging, but it’s important to keep trying. Words (or the lack of words) can reveal an underlying concern. Will we listen carefully to those who are having trouble communicating? Will we strive to be their advocates when they can’t speak up for themselves?
3. Words can be harsh and condemning. While I will never say I am a great mother, I am not the failure that the child psychologist made me out to be. His words were damaging and sadly, they cannot be unheard. We need to be careful how we use our words. Even when we need to offer negative insights, we need to say them in loving ways. In most cases there is no reason for harshness.

Words are valuable. They express love, provide guidance, give constructive criticism, rejoice in moments of celebration, offer encouragement, and so much more. Proverbs 16:24 reads: Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.

Words are meant for good; not for harm. May you and I strive to use our words carefully.

Jeanette Cloyd’s days are busy working alongside her husband Brent who is the Associational Mission Strategist of Greater Wabash Baptist Association, caring for their son Brock, visiting her dad and the other residents of the Assisted Living Facility in Fairfield where they live, and doing volunteer work. At day’s end, she spends time indulging her creative side by making cards, which can be seen on her blog Cre8tive Play, Facebook, and Instagram. You can find more of Jeanette's posts on the PriorityNow Blog here.