The Power of Words

We had the pleasure of hosting my parents for a quick few days after they spent some time with their newest grandchild, the beautiful Lillian, in New Jersey.  It is always nice to catch up, share time with them and just to see them enjoy their grandchildren.
Of course the children are our main topic of conversation.  I filled my mom in on all of the amazing things our two-year old (he'll be two on Friday!) can say and do; shared our attempts at beginning potty training (initiated by Bobby himself) and the trials of tummy time for the six-month old twins (they aren't often fond of it).
In the course of this conversation we landed on the topic of dealing with the tantrums that are common with the "trying two's".  I expressed that I am trying to remain calm and patient in the midst of all the challenges of parenting a child through the trying twos.  In the midst of my frustration I do not want to use words that would discourage, belittle or attempt to guilt my little one.  I've written before about my commitment to choosing life-giving words that would inspire and encourage.  (I'm not perfect at this, trust me).
As I reflected on this conversation throughout this past week a memory came to my mind and the thought of it just created a knot in my stomach.  It is a perfect illustration of the power of words.

When I was living in Michigan with my parents years ago, I did a lot of babysitting.  One of the families I babysat for was a combined family of two previously married individuals.  Each had children from previous marriages and they had just added a daughter to the family from their union.  This wife liked to talk.  She talked with me a lot before and after the time I was there to watch the children.  She would talk with me as if we were friends or peers even though we were neither.
When I first started working with this family I would drive up to the house and think, 'what a beautiful house'.  It was a two story house, not too big, not too small, on a quiet street not far from the water.  I thought it was ideal, the location, the wooden porch, the sweet shutters on the windows.  Just so homey.
The husband was a quiet man.  I thought he was handsome and kind.  He seemed to love his wife, and even like her-wanting to be around her, telling her how beautiful/smart/fun she was and listening to what she wanted to do for their nights-out together.
The kids were sweet overall, though they presented their own challenges, especially with parental-imposed rules that excluded sweets from the evening menu and television from the entertainment.  We stayed busy with games, reading and even playing some musical instruments.
Without fail, after each visit, the wife would come in and talk to me at length.  It didn't take me long to notice the negative direction of our conversation.  Not only that, but most of the negativity was directed at her husband.  It did not matter if he was out of the house, in the next room or sitting right in front of us, she had a critical remark for him.  She complained about his memory (or lack-thereof as she perceived it); she complained about how he did the dishes, or if he didn't do them; she commented on his appearance and what he chose to wear on their nights out; she frowned at his attempts to flatter her, and rolled her eyes when he shared an idea.
As I contemplated these memories I realized that over the course of time I too had begun to find fault with this man.  He was too short.  His "sweetness" was kind of annoying.  His tennis shoes made him seem older than he was.  Eventually, I became more annoyed with the children and the wife herself as well.  Soon, I dreaded driving down that bumpy road to that old house with the cracked shutters and wooden porch in desperate need of staining.
In retrospect it seems to me that all of the wife's griping, belittling and complaining about her husband made him seem small and unattractive; it made the environment and actual house uninviting at best.  It is no wonder that just a year or two after I stopped working with them this couple split and divorced.  How tragic, really.  Do I think that it was the power of her words that caused the marriage to break apart?  Not singularly, but I do believe it had a profound effect on the health of that marriage.
It still causes me to have a sinking feeling in my stomach when I think about sitting with her in the kitchen as she looked down her nose at him and uttered a belittling remark, and to remember the defeated look on his face...
I've said before that I had determined NOT to be the wife who complained about her husband to others and I want to add that I also try not to be the wife that complains to and/or at her husband as well.  If I have a concern or frustration (with him or otherwise) I try to present it in the least offensive way.  I don't want him to feel he has to defend himself against me from the word go.  Conversation is productive.  Complaining doesn't accomplish anything.
With her words I believe a wife can encourage her husband to be the best he can be.  I hope that Pete would say that  my support encourages him to be a better man.  Do I always agree with him or feel inspired to be that supportive person?  No, but that's what love does: it builds up, it speaks life.
So, I will endeavor to love my husband well with conversation, praising his strengths, encouraging him in those areas where he struggles and choosing respectful words.


Do you complain to your spouse?  How could criticism be turned into productive conversation?