Blabber Control Issues

“Keep your mouth shut, and you will stay out of trouble” ~ Proverbs 21:23 NLT

I was playing a friendly game of pickleball a few weeks ago with a nice lady I’d just met. Our opponents were two overly aggressive cavemen (you know the type – winning is EVERYTHING and there really is no such thing as a “friendly” game).

I knew neither past “hello.”

Things went fine at first, everyone whacking the ball amiably back and forth. But then the score got tight. It was time to spill blood.

When the tall baldie with the Goodyear tire around his middle slammed the ball into my right hip bone for the third time (only because I turned my body in the nick of time; otherwise it would’ve likely ruptured an ovary), I totally lost it. If you don’t know pickleball, it’s played with a thick whiffle ball that stings more than a little when it’s embedded in your flesh by a guy the size of Godzilla.

By “lost it” I mean control.

Of my tongue.

I suffer mightily with blabber control issues, you know. Things – bad things – often fly out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“Oh. My. Stars!!!! What is WRONG with that macho schmuck-head? I can’t STAND that guy!” I pseudo-whispered to my partner in a voice loud enough to carry across the net. (Which, er, might have been intentional.)

My partner stared at me a moment too long. It should’ve been a red flag but I was already seeing too much red to notice.

“Um … that macho schmuck-head is my husband.”

Gulp. 

How could I possibly back out of this one?

“Oh. Really?” [Such a clever response]

[Surround sound: crickets].

[Make that mortified crickets.]

[Headline reads: Christian author lady inserts foot down esophagus.]

Nothing else to do but grovel. “Golly, I’m … I’m so sorry,” I fumbled. “I shouldn’t have said that.” (I couldn’t say I didn’t mean it because it would’ve been a bald-faced lie.)

To my surprise, my partner shrugged. “It’s okay,” she graciously conceded with a hint of a smile. “Sometimes I feel the same way.”

Okay, I know I’ve blogged about my blabber control issues before. And here I am still battling the same ole, same ole. Sin. It’s called sin. Will I ever get over this molehill-turned-mountain in my spiritual maturity? I definitely need a glue stick instead of lipstick. Do they make muzzles in my size?

Please tell me I’m not the ONLY ONE who grapples with the same glaring fault over and over and over and over. When I open my mouth, I can just see Papa God cradling his head in his hands, muttering, “Uh-oh. Here we go again.”

Merciful heavens – even rats in a maze learn.

Dearest BFFs, won’t you please tell me I’m not alone here? Your big personality zit may not be blabber control; it might be something like yawning in the faces of people attempting to pour their hearts out to you … or assuring a friend you’ll pray for her HUGE problem, then promptly forgetting all about it … or talking over people who are trying to tell you something you don’t want to hear.

Or something else entirely unique to you.

Oh, do share whatever it is with me. Please. Hopefully you’ll also share what you’re doing to correct it, because I’m obviously not making a lot of progress in that department and need all the help I can get. Maybe I should have Prov. 21:23 (above) tatted across my upper lip?