Reflection 25: Learning to Tame My Tongue

The “perfect wife and mom.”

That’s the dream description, right? The one I would love to have attached to my name.

But that’s not me.

And honestly, that’s exactly why I know I need Jesus.

I am far from perfect. I need the Lord daily to help me become the best version of myself. Because while I am a child of God, I was also apparently created with an extra dose of sarcasm.

Some people call it funny.
Others might call it snarky.

And if I’m being really honest, sometimes it can be harsh.

Sarcasm isn’t always sinful. Humor isn’t always wrong. But when it slips out carelessly, when it’s sharp instead of playful, when it wounds instead of lightens — that’s where I struggle.

A lot of times, it just falls out of my mouth before I even think. Before I can filter it. Before I can ask myself if it’s kind.

And words don’t go back in.

It reminds me of that toothpaste analogy people use with kids. You hand them a tube of toothpaste and tell them to squeeze it all out. Every last bit. Then once it’s empty, you say, “Okay, now put it back.”

They look at you like you’re crazy.

Even if you could somehow shove it back in, it would never be the same. It would be mixed together, messy, distorted. The tube would be bent and wrinkled. It wouldn’t look untouched anymore.

That’s how words work.

You can apologize. You can mean it. You can work on it. But once they’re out, they’ve left their mark.

And this is where it gets personal.

There are times I lash out at my husband.

I’m not proud of it. I don’t even like admitting it. But it’s real.

Sometimes it’s something small. He’ll ask a simple question like, “Did you ask your parents where we’re meeting?” And instead of responding normally, I immediately feel irritated. Like he should already know. Like I’m being questioned. Like I’m overwhelmed.

And before I can stop myself, something sassy comes out.

He’s not trying to annoy me. He’s not trying to make my life harder. He genuinely just wants to know.

And about ten seconds later, I realize what I’ve done.

Now, I will say — growth has happened. There was a time it would take me an hour to cool down and apologize. Now it’s usually much quicker. I apologize. I mean it. I hate that I let it happen again.

But it’s frustrating because it feels so ingrained. Like I have to actively fight it every single time. I wish I could flip a switch and just be softer. Gentler. Less reactive.

But sanctification doesn’t usually happen with a switch.

It happens with awareness. With repentance. With trying again.

And my husband — gracious man that he is — always accepts my apology. He tells me he knows I don’t mean to hurt him. He doesn’t hold it over me. And that’s not permission to keep doing it. That’s mercy.

He shows me Christ in that way. Patient. Kind. Quick to forgive.

I am not the perfect wife. I am not the perfect mom. I am a woman trying to survive motherhood with two under three, running on limited sleep, stretched thin, learning how to respond instead of react.

And maybe you are too.

If you struggle with sharp words… if you sometimes respond harsher than you mean to… if you feel alone in that battle… you’re not.

I’m working on it. Actively. Prayerfully.

One day maybe I’ll find the perfect devotional or Scripture that transforms this part of me overnight. But right now, it’s daily surrender. Daily effort. Daily apology when needed.

We don’t have to be perfect.

But we do have to keep trying.

And if you’re in the thick of it with little ones and short tempers and quick tongues — we can work on it together.