Words Have Power

Shortly after John died I took to wearing words.  Not loudly, like on a t-shirt, but in small, subtle ways that only I or anyone with whom I chose to share them would notice.  

It started with a bracelet.  A friend's daughter was making hand-stamped bracelets as a fundraiser.  Without thinking too much about it I asked her to make me one saying "Psalm 30:11-12".  This passage has been a favorite since I was in my teens - "You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;  You have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, that my glory may sing Your praise and not be silent.  O Lord my God, I will give thanks to You forever."   In those first weeks after John died I clung to the hope that someday God would have me dancing again, and so I wore that reference on my wrist for months.

Those were the first words I wore.

While I was in Vermont that summer a friend gave me a sirsee - it was a bracelet reading "I am enough."  Boy, was that a message that I needed to look at many times throughout any day, every day.  I've always struggled with enough-ness, but somehow being able to graze my finger over those words helped me to start to face that monster.

Then I was wearing two sets of words, side by side.

Over time I've added to my collection of wearable words - sometimes swapping them out, sometimes layering them next to each other.  My word for 2019 was "hope" - hope for the possibility of a bright future, despite my loss.  I wore "hope" on cord around my wrist.  A friend knew about my words and witnessed first hand how often I'd pause and take a deep breath during difficult situations.  She gave me a bracelet stamped with the word "breathe."  When it was time to choose my word for 2020 I chose "open", stamped it on a circle and now wear it on a chain around my neck.  If a word or phrase spoke to me I found a way to wear it, to carry it with me.  

And then last summer I took it one step further. 

At the end of June I found myself going with two lifelong friends to a tattoo parlor.  We decided that to celebrate the completion of our 20th year of teaching we'd get tattoos (well, two of us did... the other took a break from teaching for a few year and decided to get a piercing instead - I'm not sure if the two things are related).  I went in knowing what I wanted but also knowing that the artist would most likely refuse - I wanted a tattoo on my foot and have heard mixed reviews about how such things turn out.  But for this dance teacher it seemed like the best location.  And as for all the people who claimed that the foot is one of the most painful locations for a tattoo, well, I figured if I could dance en pointe all those years I could handle a tattoo needle.  

The artist looked skeptical, but told me to write out the words I wanted.  He took one look, laughed, and said, "What's going on in that dance class of yours if kids are crying?"  You see, I'd written "You have turned my mourning into dancing."  And I patiently explained that just 11 months apart from each other I'd lost both my husband and my mother.  His friend and fellow artist, standing behind him, looked up and said, "I'll do that tattoo.  Let me sketch something out for you.  We'll make it happen."  

20 minutes after I sat in the chair I had a tattoo.  I was right, the pain was nothing compared to dancing en pointe.  Truly, it felt like I had a sunburn on the top of my foot.  People ask me if I regret getting it.  Are you kidding?  I now permanently wear the words that matter most to me.  I love it.  And as for what anybody else thinks, who cares?  If they know me then they know the significance.  And if not, they're probably not close enough to my foot to notice.  

Now as for my next tattoo - I already know the words I want, I just need to determine the location... 😉