I’ve always loved words.  And crossword puzzles.  And word games.  I like to edit and wordsmith documents – to find just the right combination of words.  Putting words on paper, in the form of letter writing or journaling, is therapeutic for me.  It brings peace.  It helps me hear the Lor

d’s voice.

Words from friends and counselors and mentors bring life.  And challenge.  And hope.  “Words of affirmation” is one of my love languages – but they must be sincere, not manipulative or grudging.  Like the description of Mary after Jesus’ birth, I treasure them in my heart. 

Words matter. 

I have a few words I cling to.  Many of them came to me in painful times and now return to provide comfort when a remnant of the original pain resurfaces. 

Other words are about hopes and dreams – things spoken over me that I desperately want to be true and I hang on to them in hopeful expectation of what the Lord will unfold in my life.

“The sorrows for the appointed feasts I will remove from you.”  (Zephaniah 3:18, NIV)

This is a promise I’ve clung to over the last couple of days.  You see, Friday should have been my 33rd wedding anniversary.  But it wasn’t.  I'm at a point where, most years, the date has begun to come and go pretty easily.  Some years, however, the tears come to the surface quickly and unexpectedly.  Not for days.  Sometimes not even for hours.  But in the midst of a rich and full life, they are an almost surprising reminder of the pain.  This was one of those years.  So I clung to the promise the Lord had given me – that He will remove the sorrows for the appointed feasts.  I know the original context was a bit different, but I also know when I first read this years ago, my heart leapt.  It was a promise to me in my pain.  A promise to remove the sorrow of anniversaries that should have been … but aren’t.

There were other words that made a difference.  The new friends who discovered my day was tough and who made easy conversation as we worked together on something.  And the words I put into an email to a friend, asking for prayer, and the response that brought tears of gratitude for how richly God blesses me through the people in my life.  There were the quick text messages of encouragement from those who understand.  And the opportunity to be with old friends, and with family, and to talk about memories of life lived together when our kids were all young. 

And, just as I knew it would, the pain passed.  The words brought comfort – and new things to treasure in my heart.