What you say about people will stick with them forever.
As a friend recently noted: “When you have something nice to say, write it in a note. If you have something difficult to say, never write it in a note. Because either way, they’ll read it again and again.”
The Note
In my oldest bible, the one I got for my birthday in 1988, is a note. It was written in 1992 by our youth pastor after our return from a missions trip to Montreal. He wrote a note to every student who had gone on the trip, specifically to commend us for things he had seen in us or how we had contributed to the team, and he mailed it to our homes. I tucked that note into the back of that bible where it has remained for almost 25 years.
Those words were some of the kindest, most positive things anyone has said about me. Ever.
I can also tell you about two different women who verbally critiqued me with such blatant disrespect and harshness that I was reduced to tears. They criticized me. They wounded me. And thankfully, they did not write their thoughts in an actual note, because those words were some of the worst ones ever said about me.
Both situations had lasting effects on me. Both the words shared my youth pastor and by those women struck me. Because what you say matters. To our spouses. To our children. To strangers on social media. To our neighbors and friends. To those who serve us at restaurants and supermarkets. Our words can encourage and build up, or they can discourage and destroy.
What Makes The Difference
1. Good words are intentional.
My youth pastor took the time to plan his note to me and the other students on that trip. He wrote down his thoughts and highlighted what he appreciated or approved about us. It was intentional and time-consuming, and so the praise was that much more valuable. The two ladies who hurt me with their words both spoke without thought. They lit into me in a moment of frustration or irritation, and as a result, there were no boundaries to their words. Every negative thought they ever had about me (it seemed) came flowing out of their mouths in a tsunami of shame and criticism.
2. Good words are constructive.
Not everything in my pastor’s note was glowing. He talked about what we learned, together, allowing for mistakes that were made. (I can still tell you about some of the mistakes, in fact.) Still, he didn’t focus there. He looked past them to the ways that I, and our team as a whole, had developed. He illustrated moments of growth. My detractors, though, focused only on mistakes. And they weren’t pointing out a little mistake to help me overcome it; instead, they reduced my entire value to that mistake. They made me feel very small.
3. Good words are specific.
My youth pastor wrote down very specific qualities or attitudes in his note. They were clear, and I know the stories behind his comments. My detractors’ comments were general. They were overarching critiques of my work ethic, my personality, my capabilities, my family, my very personhood. And they hurt me deeply. But my pastor’s words were powerful feedback. They were anchors I could hold onto when I needed a reminder that I am not “all bad.” Good feedback is always definitive, detailed, and specific.
Write Them Down
I hadn’t thought of the note from my youth pastor for a long time. It came up in conversation, unexpectedly, this weekend. But when I went looking for it, I knew right where it was. Because my friend was right. I have read those words again and again. I have also heard the unkind words in my head again and again, but the specifics are now gone. I remember the gist of what they said; I absolutely remember the feeling of those diatribes. But they aren’t tangible. The note is.
Not long ago, my parents dispersed to us boxes of old books, toys and school papers they’d been storing in the attic for 30 years. I went through pages of worksheets from first and second grade as well as pictures and projects from third, fourth, and fifth. I threw most of them away. But I kept some, too. The ones where the teachers took the time to comment, the hand-written notes on grade cards or projects. I kept those. I had forgotten how well some of those teachers thought of me. And thirty years later, it still matters.
That is my challenge today, to myself and to you. Send a note to someone. Do it weekly or monthly. Write down, intentionally and constructively, the things you see in someone, the person you recognize they are, the ways they need to be commended. Write down the words that can be read again and again. Because tomorrow, next year, even thirty years from now, it will still make a difference to them. Just like the words that Pastor Shearer, Mrs. Hartman, and Mrs. Redder wrote all those years ago still do to me.
What we say … matters.
