I had scrubbed as hard as I could on Max's football jersey, but couldn't get out that one yellow spot. And what in the world was it, anyway?
Now as I sat across the table from Max at McDonald's, I was even more perplexed. The yellow spot was still there, and it had multiplied. Now he had like a hundred of these small, yellow streakish-things that made me think of shoe scuffs on linoleum. And why were there so many of them?
"What are those marks on your shoulders, Max?"
"Hit marks, Mom."
"What's a hit mark?" I asked, knowing half the answer before the question even came out.
"It's from a face mask. When you tackle somebody on the football field, his face mask rubs off on your jersey."
It must be a pretty good hit to do that, I thought.
When you hit somebody, it leaves a mark on you—it seemed like a profound thought, especially when put in the context of our relationships with other people.
When I reach out to strike someone with an ugly word or hateful thought, even if they aren't around to hear it, it still leaves a mark on me.
You know the feeling and I do too. You're on the phone with your sister, and you can't help but take a jab at someone from work. After all, they won't hear it, and we all have the right to vent, don't we? But as soon as that last dreadful detail comes out of your mouth, you get this strange gnarl in your stomach. Your hit has left a mark on you.
Or there's that telemarketer who calls you 4 minutes after you walk in the door. You smack him right in the face with a brusque "I'm not interested. Do I call YOU at home?!" You can say that, of course, because he's a stranger and you'll never hear from him again. But there's that uneasy sensation again. Your hit has left a mark on you.
: makes a powerful statement: "The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole person, sets the whole course of his life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell… With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in God's likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers, this should not be." (NIV)
I need to watch the tackles I make, lest I be the one who ends up on the ground.