How harmless words can harm

There is a precious video I watch with my wife from time to time of our daughter as a six-year-old pulling her own tooth. She's watching herself in the mirror, wiggling the tooth hard, focused and determined to have success. Suddenly, the tooth breaks free and her face lights up with surprise and delight. Holding the tooth in the air, in her glee she joyfully squeals, "I did it! I did it!" Her pride and self-confidence for accomplishing such a feat couldn't have been higher.

It starts subtly, at a soccer tournament

Five years later, several weeks ago, my proud and self-confident daughter was playing in a soccer tournament in Atlanta. Now for me, going to Atlanta for an 11-year-old's soccer tournament already felt a bit ridiculous. Could we not find decent competition within 20 miles of our house and save $500? Maybe it would make more sense if the girls got a cash prize or skeevy college recruiters would be on the sidelines hawking the talent. Nope. It was just for the heck of playing in a special invitational tournament.

Being invited to a tournament can be dangerous. Most times, the team finds the tournament and chooses to be in it. But when the tournament finds your team, when you’re invited, it’s good to know why. It could be because the organizers really like you. That’s optimistic. It could also be because they have no one else to invite. If it weren’t for your team, they might rent a crew of animatronic dummies to get out there. Or, your team may be invited because the other teams need someone to thump.

And after the first day of my daughter’s team being outscored 21-0, I suspected the latter.

Unfortunately, this put me in a disgruntled state. I didn’t like watching our girls (who are a very strong team for their age) get annihilated. Perhaps there was some papa bear pride being poked at. Perhaps I was worried about what this would do to my daughter's confidence.

Frustration mounts, words slip

On the morning of day two, as we drove to the cold winter fields, I was simmering like my morning coffee. This better not be another drubbing, I thought. I didn’t come to Atlanta to have my daughter be embarrassed every game, I told myself. It would be a shame if she and her team realized they weren't as good as they thought they were. I lamented that there would be no prideful "I did it" on this trip.

As the girls were warming up, I observed the other team. They had some skilled players and I sensed they were about as strong as the other teams we played. Here we go, another hour of inglorious goal dunking courtesy of a team who traveled literally 1,000 miles to play in this thing. Shoot, if I were a parent who dropped that bill for a plane ticket, I’d be licking my chops for a beatdown, too.

My son was there and I decided to let off steam in my own way. I wanted to feel some vindication for showing up. Some small victory even if our team wasn't going to achieve one. The words came out.

“We’re gonna lose 7-0,” I said.

The game was played, the girls played hard, and they did, in fact, lose 7-0. I felt somewhat vindicated, but I didn’t feel any better. I was still frustrated for my daughter and her team, who I didn’t feel were a good fit for this invitational.

Life goes on. Or, so I thought.

Words have a way of resurfacing

That night at the dinner table we were discussing the weekend, and my son decided it was the right time to relay my selfish prediction to my daughter. The harmless words we give to one person can be quite the sting to another. Tears welled in my daughter's eyes. She asked why I would predict something like that. At that moment, I didn't have any words. She left the table.

After explaining to my son the importance of being wise with his words, I pondered that advice for myself. I went to my daughter and explained what I meant and apologized for the words I never meant for her to hear. Later that night, she forgave me.

What stung for me was recalling that little girl with her little tooth in hand, beaming with confidence. No one was telling her then she couldn't do it. Fast-forward to the soccer tournament, where she heard a word that we weren't so sure she could do it. Although I have great confidence in her abilities, my careless words told a different story.

Thank goodness many of our careless, harmful words as parents don't stick around and aren't remembered by our children. Yet, it's inevitable a few may persist in life. A little wound may, subtly, take a very long time to heal. How we see ourselves is a fragile thing. We're always telling ourselves stories about what's true. Little wounds of untruth, of how our parents may have perceived us, are part of those stories.

Put in a good word for me

While I can't control my word failures of the past, I can be more wise with them in the future. Moments like this remind me that every word matters. A word carries weight. It often means more to people than I give it credit for in the moment. And when I'm frustrated and my own pride is taking a licking, I tend to conjure words that don't add positive value to my life or others. I must endeavor to do better.

And so I pray the words of St. David, “May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be holy and pleasing to you, my God.”