One simple, everyday example of right speech is embodied in a call made to us at eleven pm last night. Our son was going to the cabin with his girlfriend, and he did absolutely the right thing by first saying to me that everything was fine when I got out of bed, having been asleep, and picked up the ringing phone. It turned out the shower wouldn't turn off, which is puzzling yet right up the alley of the tone of the week, with something surprising and aggrevating happening every single day. But I never had a chance to be afraid they'd had a car accident driving up, or the cabin had been broken into, or someone was in the emergency room. I am, after all, a mom, and my heart accelerates when one of the kids calls in the night. I'm programed to do so.
Our answering service got the first part of his call, and this morning I replayed it, and was struck with how swiftly he reassured me before I had a chance to catastrophize. He cut me off at the pass. This easy practice of right speech can save a lot of blood pressure spikes, and put not doing harm at the beginning of speech, before the problem is described or help requested. He was thinking of us first. It's a little but profound act of love.
So that's my Valentine's story.
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