Words Carry Intention

Words carry more than sound.

They carry intention.

I have been thinking a lot about how our heart guides our words. The same phrase can feel like a blessing or like a burden depending on what is flowing through it. The tone. The unseen current beneath it.

Take the phrase good morning.

Some believe that the word morning was once closely connected to mourning. That when someone had lost a loved one, you would wish them a good mourning, meaning you hoped they would feel comfort in their grief. Over time, the spelling may have shifted, but the sound remained.

If that is true, then casually saying good morning each day could sound like we are wishing someone to mourn.

It feels heavy when you pause and think about it.

And yet, when I say good morning, my heart is not wishing sorrow. It is wishing light. It is wishing peace. It is acknowledging a fresh beginning.

Which means our intention ultimately determines the meaning if we are truly speaking through our heart.

There is a funny scene in The Hobbit that always makes me laugh when Bilbo Baggins cheerfully says, “Good morning!” to Gandalf. And Gandalf pauses, questioning what he means by it. Do you mean it is a morning to be good in? Or that you wish me a good morning? Or that it is simply a morning to be good on?

It is almost humorous. Even in a story, the meaning of words is examined.

And that is the point.

Words are not fixed. They are shaped by intention.

There are other phrases that have carried weight for me, not because of where they came from, but because of how they were used.

When I was working as a receptionist, I was constantly asked, “Does that make sense?” After nearly every instruction. After almost every explanation.

At first, it seemed harmless.

But over time, it began to feel condescending. It carried a tone that made me feel smaller and smaller, as if I could not comprehend something simple. Instead of being asked, “Do you have any questions?” which assumes capability and invites conversation, I was repeatedly asked to confirm that I understood.

There is a subtle difference.

One assumes intelligence.

The other can quietly imply doubt.

The repetition was not about clarity. It was about hierarchy.

When “does that make sense?” is used over and over, it can become a condescending remark. It can carry a superiority complex beneath it. It can feel like someone positioning themselves above you, reinforcing that they are the one who understands and you are the one who needs to follow.

Our leadership systems are built on hierarchy. And sometimes that hierarchy seeps into everyday language. Certain phrases are used, consciously or unconsciously, to reinforce who holds authority and who is beneath.

That is what made it feel inadequate.

Not confusion.

Hierarchy.

That experience taught me something important.

We cannot change what people say, especially people we barely know. We cannot control every phrase that exists in everyday language. Trying to do so would only create more division.

But when trust develops with someone, something shifts.

We can gently say, “That phrase rubs me the wrong way. When I hear ‘does that make sense’ repeatedly, it makes me feel like I am not being trusted.”

Not as accusation.

Not as control.

But as awareness.

When someone cares, they pause. They begin to think before speaking. They may catch themselves and rephrase. Over time, that small adjustment becomes a sign of connection. It shows attentiveness. It builds trust.

There is one word that stands above all others. The most powerful language that exists in the universe is love.

And the simple statement, I love you, is loaded with more intensity than almost any other words we speak.

Yet it is thrown around so casually. At the end of phone calls. At the close of conversations. Sometimes spoken automatically, almost as punctuation.

“I love you.”

For me, that has always felt heavy.

When those words are spoken without intention, they can feel hollow. They can feel like they are used simply to conclude a conversation, instead of to truly express something sacred.

Love is not a filler word.

It is the strongest word we have.

It carries weight. It carries influence. It carries power.

And when it is overused or spoken without presence, it can become diluted. It can lose its meaning.

At times, I have chosen not to say it unless I truly feel it in that moment. Not because I do not love the person. But because I do not want the word to become automatic. I want it to remain intentional.

Maybe people will continue to say good morning.

I am not sure if anyone will ever stop saying it.

And maybe they do not need to.

Maybe what matters most is the intention behind our words.

The pause before we speak. The awareness we carry. The willingness to meet someone halfway.

To stop at the door of our own expression and ask, is my heart aligned with what I am about to say?

And to trust that if love is behind it, the word will land differently.

May our words mean exactly what we choose them to mean.

Love
Trust
And good intentions

Not a curse, but a prayer.

Not a shadow, but a blessing.

And in that sense, we reclaim our sovereignty and give our words freedom to speak what our hearts want to convey.