English 19th-century hymnist Frances Havergal has penned a phrase that sticks in my brain, there to intrude upon my thoughts during odd moments of reflection. Most known for the (unfortunately named) gospel hymn "Take My Life and Let It Be", Havergal, in the hymn "Lord, Speak to Me, That I May Speak", used the phrase 'wing my words'. Listen again: 'wing my words'. Wow. Aside from wishing I'd written this, I am in awe of the longing found in three short words. Oh, for the words I speak to breach space and time, finding their target with meaning and intention intact! Oh, for the hearer to really hear! This could be the breath prayer of anyone who crafts writing or speaking, desiring their words to make a difference in others' lives.
Today, though, it occurs to me that we need not pray or wish for our words to be winged. Often, our words fly, for good or ill, without our even considering them. Our words, carrying balm or wound, already wing their way to the ears and eyes of others. And these words? Carefully crafted or not, they can soothe, heal, build up, bind together. Carefully crafted or not, these words can wound, break down, destroy, build walls. For better or worse, our words are already winged, taking on a life of their own once spoken or written.
Wing my words; and let them be words of healing and encouragement. There are already enough winged words of destruction, and condemnation, and wounding. This is my breath prayer today.
