Blabbermouth. Chatterbox. Windbag.

I am.

On three different occasions last night, I found myself unable to shut up. My intentions were genuine. I so wanted to get my point across. I so wanted my passion and enthusiasm to catch on. I so wanted my intended listener to respond with, “Ohhhhhh! I have now seen the light thanks to you! It all makes sense now! You are so wise, oh mighty Rhonda!”

Mmmm…not so much.

What I did receive was 1) that glazed look; you know, that smile that hides the “Wow, she is talking but I have a thousand things to do tonight and I wonder if she realizes there is something stuck in her teeth – should I tell her or let her figure it out when she looks in the mirror tonight – I wonder if she looks in the mirror?” type of glazed expression, 2) another response that indicated they had not listened whatsoever to my self-righteous wisdom-giving and went on to continue their lengthy criticism, and 3) a defensive, but kind “You have no idea what you’re talking about so you better stop digging that hole before I make you crawl in it” response.

So, as an added bonus to my gift/curse of gab, I am now sitting on the couch at 3 am, not able to sleep. Now, my mouth is quiet, but my mind won’t shut up.

The power of words. They lose their power when used too freely. Just like gifts that are given in abundance, pictures that are taken incessantly, posts that are published too frequently, inspirational or political forwards that begin to annoy the email recipient, sweets that are not savored on occasion but become a daily addiction…

Know this, my dear brothers and sisters: everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to grow angry. – James 1:19

I am grateful for object lessons that are personal and painful. I am grateful for the “Hey gasbag, I’m talkin’ to YOU” revelations. I am grateful for sleepless nights when lessons are learned and insides are twisted with conviction and the Holy Spirit is working overtime to plug a leaky “pipe” and restore me to humility. I am grateful for those recipients of my excessive yapperness who offer me grace and understanding in spite of my inability to close my pie hole.

I am grateful that my God forgives me with a never-ending amount of grace and allows me to try, try again. I am grateful that I received my mom’s gift of soliloquy…if only I could learn to harness it and realize the power of words. Fewer words. Not that my words are negative or without merit. It’s just that I have trouble knowing when to shut my trap. Ramble. Digress. Blather. Go off on a tangent. And the longer I rattle on, the less powerful my point becomes. See? Like I’m doing right now.

His mercies are new every morning. As it is now almost 5 am and the only sounds my ear hears are the constant chirp of a thousand crickets delighting my senses through the open windows in the house, the hum of the refrigerator refreshing its cold, and the soft jazz through the speakers in the ceiling, I am anticipating a gorgeous sunrise, new every morning. A brisk walk with my best friend, new every morning. Another day to try again. To begin again. Because His mercies are new every morning, His faithfulness is great. May my motormouth have engine trouble today, so that I can be still and know that He is God, be still and enjoy this first day of a new autumn, be still and allow others to use their words, be still and drink in His grace, be still

2 thoughts on “Blabbermouth. Chatterbox. Windbag.

  1. Your blabber mouth is why we got along so well….miss you and your early morning ramblings that I could keep up with and reverberate right back at you!

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