I don’t remember a single word my little league coaches said to me. Sure, if I sat long enough with it I could probably come up with, “Choke up” or “Don’t use your face to catch the ball” or something of the sort. But realistically, not a single non-cliche conversation comes to mind.

Funny thing is, though, I remember them.  I remember which coaches I liked and which ones I didn’t. I remember which coaches always played their son at shortstop and put him third in the lineup even though he struck out all the time, and I remember which coaches wore shorts that were far too short. I don’t remember much of what they said, but quite clearly I recall what they did and hence who they were as men.

I remember because actions echo.

In that way a cave is a paradox. In a cave, like the great Mammoth Cave, one can shout out for days. “HEEEELLLOOOOOOOOO!” it goes on and on, over and over, rumbling forth into the dense darkness.

In life, words are replaced by actions as echos go. Sure, words matter, but it is what we do that lasts and leaves legacy in its wake.  And that is just the thing of it, quiet or loud, we all speak. And likewise, quiet or loud, apathetic or active, loving or unloving, we all act.

Our actions are pouring forth even today, and tomorrow they will echo on in someone’s mind, in someone’s heart.

What are your actions saying to those around you? What echos are rumbling forth into the dense darkness of this world?