The Power of Words

I've been cleaning out the basement and I have to accept it- I am a recovering hoarder. I'm not so much a hoarder of stuff as I am a hoarder of memories and, most of all, of words.

I have so many boxes labeled, "Melissa's Keepsakes" that it is a little embarrassing. I have pictures and mementos from childhood, from high school, college, our wedding, and so on.

I know I need to purge, purge, purge. I've shredded what has to be thousands of pieces of paper and old checks, so I know that I should just get rid of stuff rather than packing it up and taking it with me into the future. But I'm having a hard time with it.

I struggle to give away words.

I have books of poetry that I've written, journals from before I really knew how to write, cards from loved ones, newspaper articles I wrote for the school paper, handwritten notes passed to me in class, college papers with comments and grades.

I have little books that Lexi wrote (or started writing and never finished) and pictures Lydia drew and signed her name to. I have letters from childhood pen pals, notebooks full of concepts jotted down during class, and final projects that were just too much work to ever be thrown away.

I found three stories I wrote for Fiction Writing class that got mediocre grades and some harsh, but probably deserved, criticism.

But the words that really touched me last night during my basement purge were from two different professors I had during my time at KU.

You see, Words of Affirmation is my Love Language. If you've read The Five Love Languages, you'll know what I'm talking about. If not, the basic idea is that all people feel love differently. Some feel loved by physical touch, others when people give them gifts or spend time with them.

I feel most loved and appreciated when people express their feelings for me in words. And that's the kind of love I am best at giving too. It doesn't mean that I need to be told, "I love you" all the time, it means that when someone compliments me in words, I feel it deeply and often replay it over and over in my head.

One professor, Dr. Nielsen, taught me about Children's Literature and different aspects of Primary Literacy. Her assignments were a lot of work. Hours of work. And they were only ever worth about ten points each, which killed me. I felt as though each needed to be worth a minimum of 100 points, based on all the effort I put in. But what I treasured most were her comments. She read every word I wrote.

That shouldn't feel so special, but it is. I had several professors that would require giant binders or lengthy papers that would never be returned. I remember specifically hunting one professor down to ask when I would be getting a project from the previous semester back, which is just ridiculous. I wanted to read her comments and see what she thought about all the work I had done.

Dr. Nielsen told me on more than one occasion (in the form of a comment on an assignment) that I was a good writer, and that meant, and still means, a lot to me. Last night I discovered a stack of old assignments full of encouraging comments and I felt so inspired that I couldn't bear to part with them. In fact, I wrote her an email to let her know how much her words still matter to me 8 years later. I can't bring myself to throw the papers away, so they'll be coming with me to the new house.

Another professor, Dr. Crawford, assigned group discussions in the form of comments in an online forum. We'd be required to post our thoughts on a particular topic of educational law, and then we'd have to respond to other people's thoughts as well. This was not a new concept to me, so I went ahead with it. What was new to me was what happened the first class period after such an online discussion took place. Dr. Crawford printed off every single comment we made and returned them with handwritten notes and follow-up questions. I was absolutely blown away by the time and care he'd taken with our work, and you can bet that knowing my word were heard inspired me to write thoughtfully for the rest of the semester. I'll probably be keeping several of those print outs as well.

It may seem silly to keep years-old assignments and random cards I've been given, and to some degree, it probably is. But something about those handwritten, thought-provoking words of encouragement are too special to be thrown away.  They remind me that I am valuable, and that there are others who care about me. Honestly, I cherish them.

So thank you, my friends, for your words. They mean so much to me that I can't bear to give them away. Perhaps there's a lesson in this too. Your words have the power to pull someone up, or push someone down.  Know that your words linger long after you've forgotten what you said. Choose them with care.