I saw a cigarette box last week. It wasn’t my first time. I see them often- arranged like a brick game on table tops for sale. In my head, I imagine them collapsing onto one another- brick by brick until they lie defeated in a tumble on the table.“Smoking Kills”The words spread out across the little box like a list of ingredients. Just this time, it was in larger fonts; doing a backflip dance all over the box.I know I wouldn’t wake on a Monday morning, or on any other morning, and add to my coffee milk that came with the message:“This milk is bad. It is dangerous to your wellbeing. It will hurt your insides and make your coffee taste terrible. It will, in the end, leave a permanent stain in that beautiful china of yours”.I know I wouldn’t taste that milk.Cigarette boxes come with red flags all over that silly little card box. But the words we speak don’t.There’s no yellow light that sends us a signal to say “Hey! You’re about to say something you wouldn’t mean after two hours. You’re about to make yourself feel really small. Come, come sit down. Let’s think through all of it first. Let’s break down the sentences, let’s read the words out loud to ourselves, and let’s come up with a better plan”There are no warning signs stapled on our tongues.And so we speak. And with every word, we bring harm and pain to ourselves and to people.What breaks my heart most is the kind of harm that we bring upon ourselves- like magic charms going the wrong direction.Only this time, it’s not magic and we are our own target.If we lived in a world where people lost a cedi for every self-depreciating comment they made, we would all be reaping poverty in all backyards.It’s as though we receive a yellow candy for every time we make ourselves feel a little less, a little undeserving, a little unworthy.But we are so much more. We are full bodied daylight, moon dust layered vessels. We are fire and dawn. Alive and born. We are necessary. And we are needed.There are nine billion reminders of our worth, our beauty, our flawed yet, perfect beings, scattered everywhere on this huge planet.There are reminders when we are chosen, when people smile when their eyes meet ours, when people make time to listen. They are in the tight hugs and little acts of kindness, the late night thoughts and whispered prayers.We are remembered. We are thought of. We are needed here.We are needed in this very space of brokenness and vulnerability. We are needed.Let’s make deep promises, each night, to choose ourselves. Let’s be our very own fine china.Let’s be intentional when we fill ourselves and, others too. Let us, with all our cracks, sit right at the middle of the round table where we will be seen. And then, let’s dance- in black coffee and positive milk. Let’s slow dance in all the spin and see if that wouldn’t taste better.