Words are Currency

 

Every day I we hear stories that would break your heart. And I’m wondering if it’s starting to break mine.

Yesterday a business man told me about how he almost didn’t survive his divorce.

I felt my heart cracking in a million little pieces but pushed back the physical pain. It felt the same way the day I read a book clients memory about his only boy who recently died.

I listened. I shared important words.

Last night, I listened for an hour on a book call with a celebrity whose only child was her very best friend, and yet died of a drug overdose.

Months prior, a man told me about how his father used to beat him with matchbox car tracks as a child. This vision had a specific meaning for me as I’d just purchased a large matchbox car track for my boys. I couldn’t even see the big box without getting sick to my stomach.

Standing on the street one day in downtown Dallas, talking to a homeless man, he told me about a memory. His last memory of his father.

“He told me to get out of the car. I was eight. He drove away and left me on the side of the road, without a coat and it was snowing.”

I listened.

I told him that I was sorry and I gave him a hug. Like all of the others, we talked through it, connecting the dots from the past to the struggle, to the strength to help him overcome adversity, into the present.

Old pain is an anchor, I said.

We have to rewrite that memory or let it go. The homeless man agreed.

Today we deliver words to the homeless, and others, when we work in orphanages or shelters. We deliver hope through our Words are Currency leadership program and teach people why words are worth more than what’s in your bank account.

Tammy Kling

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