Mother Tongue

Let me take you on a lie journey, and where we end up isn’t going to be where we start.

Not long ago, I had to have a conversation with one of my kids about lying. This particular lie was not one told to avoid childhood punishment. It was one of those lies told for convenience, or heehaws, or trying to keep the peace. You know the kind of lie I’m talking about. Those are the scariest brand of lies to me because they aren’t squeaked out under duress. Instead, they are the “casual lie,” and that’s what makes them so insidious. They can be difficult to detect, easy to ignore, and, like a Creeping Charlie, they can take over the entire flower bed and blend in with what you intentionally planted.

This particular conversation did not include the typical “lying is wrong, here’s why it’s wrong, and now you are grounded, thank you very much!”

Instead, what came out of my heart was a plea for them to understand that how we speak has the power to shape who we become. Casual lying is more about ourselves than it will ever be about the person to whom we lie. If we tell these kinds of lies enough, this kind of lying will eventually become the language we speak, and in the end, it shapes who we become. 

[Spoiler alert: nobody likes a liar.]

But even more disturbing, if that’s the path we choose, we end up creating and operating in a world of unreality. 

Now, here’s my bait and switch moment. This post isn’t actually about my kids or lying. It’s about how this particular incident forced me to flip the magnifying glass back on myself and evaluate how I speak and how that’s shaping who I am becoming.

So I asked myself: What is my mother tongue?

And like a giant spotlight on a solitary padlocked cabinet, I was convicted of my early morning self-talk liturgy. 

What is it I say to myself in those early waking moments? Some variation of the following:

I hate getting up early.

I need just a little more sleep.

My to-do list today feels impossible.

Does anyone even appreciate anything I do?

God, why can’t it just be summer again?

I wish I could just light everything on fire.

Arghhhhh!

And before I know it, I have successfully framed my day in the belly of negativity instead of on the throne of gratitude and praise. No wonder I don’t want to get out of bed. 

Unfortunately, it’s impossible to have a blank brain first thing in the morning, so deciding to simply not have those thoughts doesn’t fix the problem. I need to replace them. And if there’s one thing I have a little PTSD about, it’s toxic positivity. 

So what’s the best choice? To simply say the truth.

And here is the truth: “Today is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

Our rejoicing and gladness are not dependent upon circumstance. Our rejoicing and gladness are tethered simply to the fact that God woke us up. 

How you speak matters. It shapes you. How you speak to yourself first thing in the morning matters. It shapes your day.

May your early morning liturgy be one of gratitude. 

P.S. When I said I wish I could light everything on fire, I promise there will be no intentional housefires anytime soon. 

…I think.