A dying person’s final agony can be called their “death throes.” The only other common use for this word is “throes of passion.” “Throws” are wrestling moves or those little blankets you drape on the furniture.
This was the entry today on the Common Errors in English Usage blog spot: http://commonerrorscalendar.blogspot.com/
It tickled me. My mind immediately went to thinking of a throw that is thrown over the back of a chair as a "throe," lying there wiggling. Then my mind switched to a "throw" of passion and envisioned a blanket being thrown across the room from one squabbling child to another. Silly, isn't it. But our English language has many such quirks. And as we explore the possibilities the results can be humorous. They can be a playground for fun in a fertile mind. They can be devastating.
Our words have the power to do such lasting damage.
Our words have the power to do such lasting damage even when we never intended for them to do so.
It's another example of living in a fallen, sinful world. I can't imagine Eve getting mad at Adam because he said she was looking a little plump. I can't imagine Adam rolling his eyes when Eve asks if he really needs to watch another football game. O.K. maybe not real football, but animal football with a live pig. It had to be a live pig because there was no death, and so there could be no pigskin ball. Right?
I know it sounds silly. And I really am making light of the communication tragedies in which we become embroiled. The stupid, hurtful, thoughtless words which pass our lips cannot be reclaimed, erased, or completely forgotten. They are there - until we stand before God's throne and give account for every careless word (Matthew 12:36).
One of my favorite poems is "The Fool's Prayer" by Edward Rowland Sill
The royal feast was done; the King
Sought some new sport to banish care,
And to his jester cried: "Sir Fool,
Kneel now, and make for us a prayer!"
The jester doffed his cap and bells,
And stood the mocking court before;
They could not see the bitter smile
Behind the painted grin he wore.
He bowed his head, and bent his knee
Upon the monarch's silken stool;
His pleading voice arose: "O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!
"No pity, Lord, could change the heart
From red with wrong to white as wool;
The rod must heal the sin; but, Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!
" 'Tis not by guilt, the onward sweep
Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay;
'Tis by our follies that so long
We hold the earth from heaven away.
"These clumsy feet, still in the mire,
Go crushing blossoms without end;
These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust
Among the heart-strings of a friend.
"The ill-timed truth we might have kept -
Who knows how sharp it pierced and stung!
The words we had not sense to say -
Who knows how grandly it had rung!
"Our faults no tenderness should ask,
The chastening strips must cleanse them all;
But for our blunders - oh, in shame
Before the eyes of heaven we fall.
"Earth bears no balsam for mistakes;
Men crown the knave, and scourge the tool
That did his will; but Thou, O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!"
The room was hushed; in silence rose
The King, and sought his gardens cool,
And walked apart, and murmured low,
"Be merciful to me, a fool!"
Our words have such power! We can build up one another to love and good works. Or we can destroy the relationships around us. We may think we're just playing around, but the consequences remain regardless of whether we've found ourselves in the throes of passion or under a throw about which we're passionate!