Story by Bill Conley
Moral:
Words carry power far beyond what we can see in the moment they are spoken.
They can build bridges of connection or create walls of hurt. Every word we say
has the ability to shape someone’s day, self-worth, or outlook on life.
Speaking with intention and kindness helps us create a world that is safer and
more loving for everyone around us.
Milo the Mouse lived in a cozy little
burrow at the base of a big oak tree in the heart of Maplewood Meadow. He was
small, with soft gray fur, a long tail, and two oversized ears that wiggled
when he was excited. Milo loved life, and more than anything else, he loved to
talk. He talked to the trees, to the clouds, to anyone who would listen—and
sometimes, to those who didn’t want to.
Milo didn’t mean to be unkind, but
he often said the first thing that came to his mind. He was quick with a
comment, a joke, or a playful tease, and he rarely noticed how his words landed
with others. In Milo’s world, words were just words—meant to fill the air and
keep things interesting. But for the friends who shared Maplewood Meadow with
him, his words sometimes carried a weight Milo didn’t recognize.
One warm spring morning, Milo
wandered into the field and spotted Bella the Bunny painting quietly by the
stream. Her canvas was covered with colorful strokes of blue, pink, and yellow,
shaped like the flowers that bloomed all around them. Milo tilted his head and
blurted out, “Those flowers look all squiggly. They don’t even look real!”
Bella’s ears sank, and she looked
down at her painting. “Oh,” she said softly. “I was trying something new.”
She packed up her supplies without
another word and hopped away. Milo stood alone, blinking in confusion. He
hadn’t meant to upset her—he just said what he thought.
Later that afternoon, Milo saw Toby
the Turtle stacking smooth, round stones into a delicate tower by the pond.
Toby was known for being slow but patient, and he carefully balanced each stone
with precision. Milo watched for a few moments and then chuckled, “That’s going
to fall over. You’re way too slow to finish before dinner.”
Toby paused, his head still and his
eyes on the rocks. Without a word, he lowered his neck and gently nudged the
stones back into a pile before walking away.
Milo felt a strange heaviness in his
chest. He didn’t understand what was happening. Why did everyone seem so quiet
and sad around him today?
Later still, he ran into Lulu the
Ladybug, who was perched on a tree stump, singing a soft little song she had
written. Her voice was small but sweet, and she sang from her heart. After
listening for a few seconds, Milo shrugged and said, “That song doesn’t even
rhyme. It sounds kind of odd.”
Lulu’s wings drooped, and her voice
trailed off. She flew away without saying goodbye.
That evening, Milo trudged home with
his tail dragging behind him. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel
like talking. His grandmother, who everyone in the meadow called Grandma Mouse,
was in the kitchen stirring a pot of warm cheese stew.
She took one look at Milo’s face and
knew something was wrong. “What’s the matter, my little chatterbox?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Milo said quietly.
“Everyone seemed sad today, and I think it might be because of something I
said.”
Grandma Mouse sat down beside him
and placed a gentle paw on his shoulder. “Milo, your words are like seeds. If
you plant words of kindness, they grow into trust, joy, and friendship. But if
you plant sharp, careless words, they can grow into hurt and loneliness. Even
if you didn’t mean to hurt someone, the pain still remains.”
Milo looked down at his paws. “I
didn’t think it mattered. I thought I was just being honest.”
“There is a difference between
honesty and unkindness,” Grandma Mouse said softly. “It’s not just what we say,
Milo. It’s how we say it and whether we pause to think about the feelings of
the one listening.”
That night, Milo couldn’t sleep. He
kept thinking about Bella’s drooping ears, Toby’s silent retreat, and Lulu’s
vanishing flight. He didn’t feel proud of his words anymore. He felt... sorry.
The next morning, Milo woke up with
a new goal. He filled a basket with little gifts: a wild daisy for Bella, a shiny
stone for Toby, and a tiny notebook for Lulu to write new songs. But more
importantly, he filled his heart with a desire to make things right.
He found Bella painting again, this
time under a willow tree. He approached slowly and said, “Bella, I’m really
sorry for what I said yesterday. Your painting was brave and beautiful, and I
didn’t take the time to appreciate it. I brought you this daisy because it
reminded me of your colors.”
Bella smiled gently. “Thank you,
Milo. That means a lot.”
Next, he made his way to the pond
where Toby was watching the water ripple.
“Toby,” Milo began, “I said
something unkind. I wasn’t thinking. You were building something wonderful, and
I was wrong to tear it down with my words. Would you let me help you build
another one?”
Toby gave a slow, thoughtful nod.
“I’d like that.”
Finally, he fluttered up to Lulu’s
favorite stump.
“Lulu,” he said, “I didn’t listen to
your song with my heart. I just reacted. But your voice is special, and I want
to hear it again—if you’ll give me another chance.”
Lulu smiled and held the notebook
close. “I will.”
From that day on, Milo still loved
to talk—but now he talked with care, with heart, and with thought. He learned
to ask himself a simple question before speaking: Will these words help or
hurt?
And every time he chose to build
instead of break, his friendships grew stronger, and his world became a little
brighter.
Additional Moral to the Story.
Words can sting or they can mend.
Be a kind and caring friend.
Speak with love, and you will see—
How sweet and strong your words can be.
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