It’s not the words

One morning, about four years ago, it was absolutely pouring torrential rain outside. I had been rushing around that morning to get out of the house (evidence of my formerly awful time management), and had had a particularly stressful ride into work. Upon arriving to school, I realized I hadn’t made the copies I needed for my first class. Feeling crunched and already wanting to go home and call it a day, I decided to change my plan last-minute (yes, sometimes we do that).

As the kids came into the room, I knew I needed a massive change of energy.

I told my students I wanted them to go online and look up good news articles; they would treat the assignment as if they were looking up regular current events, as we had done a few times before, except this time they were only allowed to find happy stories. They spent about twenty minutes researching, about ten minutes putting together written reports, and so we had forty-five minutes left in the class to present, with five minutes left over for me to explain the homework.

Stumbling over to the computers to begin their research, my kids were half-asleep. So was I.

I absent-mindedly opened the blinds, forgetting that it was gray and dreary and awful outside. Not even having the energy to pull the cord again to lower the blinds, I left them open.

When it was time to present, the first group came up and shared their story. Then the second group.

Then the third, the fourth, the fifth, and so on. That year, I had twenty-four students in class, so working in groups of three, eight groups in total presented on stories that made us laugh out loud, go “Awwwww!”, and look at each other and smile.

As the final group finished their presentation, something about the room was different. I shrugged it off, and was just about to tell them the homework assignment when one of my students yelled out:

“Señora, could you close the blinds, please? The sun is right in my eyes!”

We looked towards the windows and gasped.

The sun was out. Except it wasn’t just out.

It was shining.

Everyone looked around at each other for a few seconds without saying anything.

Had we really made the sun come out from talking about only positive things, laughing, and smiling for forty-five minutes straight?

Probably not. Many of them believed that we had, though, and that was enough to change my energy – and theirs - for the rest of the day.

The truth is that words, by themselves, are just combinations of letters. When we speak them out loud, it’s not those combinations of letters leaving our mouths that are carrying the power, but rather our voices and the energy that comes out with them. More than that, even, it’s the belief we have about the words we’re speaking that moves, inspires, and changes us and others around us - and how we all see our world.

What if, though…

What if we really did make the sun come out that day?

I guess it doesn’t hurt to believe that we did.