Sticks and Stones

As a teacher I realize the importance of words. I know that a careless comment can cause serious damage, and a well timed phrase of encouragement can change everything.
I know the power of words. However, so often I forget. I don't put the filter on. I let things pour out of my mouth without deciding what should go and what should stay ( in my head!). The back of the book quotes that we use "30,000 words a day" and encourages us how to make them count. 30,000 is a lot of words. Sadly at the end of the day -- I can only remember a few of them. Too often, I am remembering words that wish I hadn't let slip out. I agreed to participate in this book tour hoping for some good reminders and encouragement to be more careful. The book came through in that area.....but provided much more. I was expecting this short little book to just be full of proverbs about controlling our tongue and plenty of examples where praise changed someone's course. I was selling my words short! There is so much more crammed into this tiny book. It starts with ways to improve your self talk, stresses the importance of the written word, gives tips on how to say things ( good and bad), some etiquette for communicating with technology ( ok, so I should be keeping up with my blog better….sorry friends!), and even prayer.

Where to get the book: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0310282535
The author's website: http://acecollins.com/
Other bloggers on the tour: http://www.blogtourspot.com/collins-blog-tour/collins-blog-tour-stops/

Comments

ace said…

Thanks for your kind words. I am so pleased by book touched you as your words did me.

Ace Collins

April 6, 2009 at 9:41 AM

Either/Or

Recently I met an old friend for lunch. He was actually my senior high prom date. He wasn’t just my prom date, but had been my friend for a good part of high school. And our group has mostly stayed in touch through the years. But not him. Even though we live in the same big metroplex, I hadn’t seen him in almost 15 years. At prom, He even won some kind of senior superlative, Mr. BHS or something like that. In other words, he was well-liked, nice, funny and smart. And it helped that he drove a Camero. We didn’t break up or have a falling out. He kind of just disappeared. And not just from me, but from everyone. And I had looked for him. At class reunions. On myspace. And eventually, only about a year ago, he finally showed up on facebook. When he did, I suggested we get together for dinner or something. And he responded with a really awkward email. Explaining that he was gay. Warning me. Trying to let me out of my dinner invitation if I wanted. And I already knew this. Possibly I had ev

me too

I used to never question God. It was just part of the way things were. Just like I believed in Santa and the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny. And eventually I grew up and started to wonder. I always believed, But occasionally I started to wonder if he was always good. If he really loved me. Singular me rather than an all inclusive version. That he was paying attention. That my prayers mattered.` And I didn’t know that I should play by the rules. That questioning these outloud things in a Bible study or Sunday School class Will get you bumped to the top of the prayer list. Because I know. But sometimes I wonder. And I didn’t need their scripture memory verses or their books or their prayers. (but I guess prayers never hurt) And I was just hoping for someone else to say “me too”. And, Jason Boyett’s book, O Me of Little Faith Is one great big “me too” And like most books I like he asks a whole lot more questions than he answers. Hard ones. Ones without real answers. Ones that make me wa

imaginary friends

Recently I had a friend disappoint me. I didn’t tell them. And I didn’t write about it when it happened. Instead I seethed a little and got angrier and slightly resentful and finally dumped it on my husband. (who had some great advice that will come later) And. I have hesitated to write this piece because a lot of my real life friends read this. Maybe even the one I’m writing about. Maybe not. Actually I’m not really sure. And to be honest the best pace to work this out would be with them. Just them. And not on line. But. It’s not really about them. It’s more about me. And I don’t think there is so much to work out anyways. So, if you are my real life friend and are reading this and wondering, hesitantly or fearfully if this is about you. It might be. But it probably isn’t. And again. Even if it is. It’s not REALLY about you. And if it isn’t. It could be. If we have been friends for more than five minutes, we have probably had a moment like this. So, back to me venting to my husband.

idontbelieveingrammar

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