What little child is not fascinated by a fresh tube of gooey toothpaste? The pliable tube. The way it gushes out in one smooth motion. Even as an adult, there are times squeezing out an entire tube of toothpaste seems incredibly stress reducing.
When I was a child, not only did I like squirting out the toothpaste, but I enjoyed eating it. Yum. It was sweet. I think Mom may have made some emphatic point about me not eating it, but who knows. It was tasty, goopy, and fun.
So, one time, I waited until Mom was running an errand to feast on the forbidden “treat.” Dad was “watching” me, so I made my way to our bathroom, retrieved the toothpaste, and ate until my heart was content… or, until my stomach revolted. Slowly, I waddled out of the bathroom and found my dad lying on his favorite spot in front of the TV (there was most likely some sporting event going on at the time).
“Daddy, I don’t feel so good.”
What happened next was every father’s nightmare. I have vague memories of “losing my lunch” all over the living room carpet while my dad yelled, “Go to the bathroom!!!” His exclamation was soon followed by the sound of our vacuum cleaner. (That is one way to clean up vomit! Dads are the best. ~smile~)
Toothpaste serves a good purpose. We need it for our dental health; but, when we use it incorrectly, we get sick. We throw up. We moan and groan. We call poison control. In much the same way, our sweet verbal revenge always turns bitter. It tastes pleasant crossing our lips, but creates a lingering sour environment.
Do I Freaking Live Here?!
When we allow our tongues to run wild and say whatever is on our deceitful hearts, it leads to chaos and carpet stains. My first semester of college was a testimony to this fact.
My community college friend and I decided to attend the same university and be roommates. It was our first time sharing a room with anyone or living away from home. The first semester was… interesting. We encountered one change after another; and, not only were we sharing a room for the first time ever, but we were living with almost fifty other girls on the dorm, sharing bathrooms, and attempting to sleep when others were not so interested in creating a tranquil environment. It was hard being away from home for the both of us.
Did I handle it well? Not always.
After a few months of emotional pressure built up, my roomie (and still friend) suggested a way she could take the bunk beds apart to create a more comfortable environment. Climbing up and down the bed was getting extremely old for her and when she proposed her idea, I was fine with it (or, maybe it was more of a, “Sure, whatever…”); but, at the very least, I endorsed the plan.
Shortly thereafter, I was heading out the door to go shopping when my roommate playfully said, “It is going to look different in here when you get back.” I probably grunted a half-hearted response and went on about my business.
When I returned, our room had been torn apart – at least by my dramatic standards. Yes, the beds were no longer connected, but I had not given her enough time to put the room back together. My belongings were everywhere and I did not recognize the place.
Rage.
With fire in my eyes, I grabbed my phone, left the building, and called my dad. He tried to calm me down; yet, the longer I talked to him, the angrier I became. In retrospect, I am not sure why I reacted so ferociously since I had technically given her the go-ahead. I suppose seeing my personal stuff scattered all over the place mixed with my internal struggle against all the change taking place in my life caused me to go off my rocker.
After hanging up with Dad, I marched back upstairs and unleashed my verbal wrath on a very frightened roommate. All I remember is her standing on one side of her bed and me standing on the other, arms flailing in a fit of rage, yelling any and every awful thought that came up from my selfish heart. After scorching her thoroughly and indicating that she did not respect the fact that it was also my room, I ended my monologue with the mature and memorable question, “Do I live here? DO I FREAKIN’ LIVE HERE?!”
(I promise, we laugh about this now!)
In a huff, I grabbed my comforter and pillow, stormed out of the room and barked, “Good night!” I was a girl without a bed, so I headed down the hall to a friend’s room for the night. She listened to my anger, probably thinking I had lost my good sense (which I had). After a few minutes (not enough minutes), I began feeling kind of bad and decided to head back to my room and apologize. I should have waited longer. Oh, how I should have waited longer.
I opened the door to our room and found my roomie on the phone to her mom, crying. You would think compassion might have filled my heart at that moment, but no. Another round of venomous rage filled my lungs. I cannot remember if I waited until she hung up or not, but I began mocking her viciously.
“Awwww. Are you calling your mommy? Did you tell her what a mean roommate you have? Did she say, ‘Don’t worry, honey. You only have to live with her a wittle while longer.’? What did mommy tell you to say, huh?”
Through gasps and sobs, she whimpered, “She told me to apologize….WWWWWHHHHHAAAAAAAAA!!!” At that moment, I felt smaller than dirt. The dragon in me was shot through the heart and I expired on the spot. No rage. Just deep regret and amazement at my horrific display and her grace. Then, she fell into my arms and sobbed. It was clear I had wounded her deeply and there was nothing I could do to take back my words. The toothpaste was out of the tube and there was no way to put it back again. It was a powerless and excruciating place to be.
It is difficult to swallow those moments when you come front and center with your own sinful capabilities.
Once You Squirt the Toothpaste Out, There is No Putting it Back
Years ago, I remember hearing a tip on the radio for parents who wanted to teach their children a lasting lesson on the power of words. The host recommended giving children a paper plate and their own tube of toothpaste, and then letting them squeeze the toothpaste onto the plate – any child’s dream come true. Once the tube was empty, she told parents to instruct the children to put the toothpaste back into the tube – not as much fun and virtually impossible.
It is easy to squirt words out of our mouths. Even pleasant at times when we are angry and feel justified in our attack. But, once the words are out, they are out. Floating around in the recipient’s mind forever.
I was reminded of this a few weeks ago when Eric and I were discussing a rather sensitive subject. After several attempts to express myself, I became loud and forceful because I did not feel heard. Eric does not always understand my perspective since his is so completely different; and, on this particular day, I shunned wisdom and let my mouth fly free. (If it were not for the fact that I make so many mistakes, I may not have so much to write about!)
Later that evening, as I was settling in for bed, he softly whispered, “Please remember when you go on your tirades, I do have feelings.” Another tube of toothpaste squeezed out. Even though times get better and communication resumes, those painful words never completely go away. They may be forgiven and set aside, but once they are heard, they stay with us forever.
Take a lesson from the six-year-old me who experienced the pain of misusing her toothpaste. Or, the twenty-year-old me who proved the spirit-breaking power of the unbridled tongue. Or, the thirty-three-year-old me who is still learning that anger is no excuse for pulling out a rhetoric bullwhip.
Buy Some Toothpaste!
If you want a mental picture that will stay with you throughout your relationship, buy a cheap tube of toothpaste, squirt it onto a plate or into a bag, and then try to put it back in the tube. Let that experience remind you to take your wrath to God in prayer where He can soften your heart, and then say only what is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, and excellent to others (Philippians 4:8). You will have to express anger and frustration at times – we all do – but it is possible to do it tactfully, without breaking emotional bones. And when you fail, humbly apologize and ask for grace.
I am thankful for my dad’s grace when he had to clean up after my poor decision. I am thankful for my roommate’s grace in forgiving me for treating her with such cruelty. And, I am thankful for Eric’s grace when I run off at the mouth and spew out disrespect.
Mostly, I am thankful for God’s grace and love, in that while I was still lost in my sin, He gave His life to pay my debt. (Romans 5:8)
What measures do you take to bridle your tongue?