Talking without words

As I sit down to write this entry I am reminded of this famous quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson; "My dear,

I can’t hear you.

What you do speaks so loud that I cannot hear what you say.

So speak to me with your actions, not your words. Speak to me with your doings, not your mouth. Speak to me with your hands, not your voice.

For your actions drown out what you say to the point that that’s all I hear."

Working with H has brought a whole new understanding to this quote. H is teenager with special needs that I have been hired to care for and help with goals that his mother sets for us. While H is learning sign language he does not speak. As I pondered this past Saturday it was interesting how much H's parents know what he needs pretty much every moment of the day. Of course there is a certain routine that he has settled into which is helpful for all involved. Take for instance a situation that happen a few weeks ago. After walking in a beautiful park and having lunch, I could tell H was not quite himself. I phoned his parents and they instructed me to head to their house and they would be home shortly. The minute H's mom saw him, she could tell he was not well. She felt his head and immediately knew that he had a fever. Now of course, most moms would be able to diagnose a simple fever.

But I imagine that H's mom has much more difficult attempts at finding the things her son needs. How easy is an ear infection to notice if the sufferer is unable to communicate pain or fluid in their ear? All of these thoughts kept bringing me back to idea of non verbal communication. H's parents may not be able to hear complaints from their son's mouth in the form of words like most parents are used to, but they seem to be so in tune with his mannerisms, mood, and affect that they can spot things that most people would not be able to. This past Saturday I paid special attention to the non verbal communication that I could while with H. In our society it seems eye contact and head nods are quickly becoming not as important as whatever app is being played on the latest phone or gadget. I will be the first to admit to perhaps a heavy reliance on my cell phone. As we walked through the mall some folks had eyes glued to their phone or in some instances the phone seemed attached to their ear. There were others who looked and smiled, and that was always a delightful encounter.

Perhaps the most touching was a lady who saw myself and H walking out of a bread store. She waited and held the door open for us. As we walked through, she did the sign of the Cross with her hand. And looked down and said "God Bless You." I had seen plenty of folks do the sign of the cross and been told God Bless You hundreds of times, mostly after sneezing. This time it was vastly different. For starters, the kind act of holding the door opened showed me this lady was in the present moment and wanted to do something kind. One of my bigger struggles is the messages that Christians send to people. I believe Jesus to be full of grace and all about inclusion. When I see Christians expressing anything else, I am baffled. But what a message that was given by this lady, all with using 3 simple words and a small hand motion. For me, the Cross symbolizes so much, but if I had to simplify the Message it would be that the worst act is never the final act. Considering H and his family's journey, I wondered what that might look like.

Surely anyone could imagine how tough the day was the news was shared about H's diagnosis. And for some people they stop there. I talk to scores of people who just lament that sadness this family must have. While meaning well, they miss the plain and simple fact. H brings so much joy and love into this world. He needs no words to do this. A heartfelt hug is given away freely. He will hold your hand any time you walk anywhere. Sitting on the couch, he loves to lean on your shoulder. While compassion and empathy are wonderful things to feel, please don't think because someone has special needs that their life is dull, boring, or less than. If anything, I find myself realizing how long it has been since I smiled ear to ear or laughed until my cheeks hurt. And just for the record, I can always tell when I have been with H, because my cheeks hurt from the smiling and laughter.

How different would my life be if my actions spoke so loudly that I didn't need words?

A Hand to Hold

I recently took a position as a caretaker for a teenager with special needs. The folks whose son I have been caring for have become good friends of mine. Before I was hired, I heard their frustration, desperation, and despair in finding someone that would care for their son and allow them breaks that consisted of a few hours at a time from the full attention their son requires. Let me start by saying that I realize my experience is just from a few weeks of consistently spending time with H(for respect of the family I will use H as his name), I can only imagine the realizations and insight folks who have spent months, years or decades doing this type of work.

So, basically the biggest time frame I am with H is on Saturdays. I pick him up from his home at 9 am and return around 3 pm. The idea is to promote community integration by going in the community and working on structured goals that H's family and I have agreed to. To start, as I pull up, H is in the bay window facing the street peering out waiting for me to arrive. Claps and loud screams can be heard as I approach the door. His excitement makes putting his shoes on a more difficult task than normal. As we leave he gives hugs to his parents and we are on our way. Some of his goals include opening his own car door and buckling himself, which he has shown progress through the weeks I have had him. Generally we go to one of two places. The mall or the park. The goal is to find somewhere we can walk and be in the community. H can walk on his own, but most of the time he prefers to hold your hand. At first it can be cool, I was reminded of holding my parents and grandparents hand as a kid, or when I used to hold the hand of my girlfriend in middle and high school. Then there are times when our hands get sweaty, H squeezes too tight, or it's just plain difficult to hold hands while I walk in front of or behind him due to space limitations in the aisle or walkway. Inevitably if I break free from holding hands, he reaches out to me, not stopping until our hands are united. Here is where my spiritual "A-ha" moment came to me. H is much more spiritual than me. You see, I can read the latest book, or even the Greatest Book (the Bible), but inevitably I end up breaking my hand free from God's. Much like H, I can walk without holding the Hand. But also much like H when he isn't holding someone's hand I am much more prone to lose my balance and possibly fall. There are times when I am walking with H, and he wants to go a different direction. Sometimes it is off the paved walk way in the park, and sometimes it's into the Women's restroom (H doesn't knowingly do this). When this happens I re-direct his attention and subtly guide him to where we need to go. Ever been to that place with God? I know I have. However I may rationalize and justify the action, there are times when I know God's hand is pulling me to where I need to be. The thing of it is, when I tell people that I work with H, they often praise me for being patient and compassionate, which is very kind of them. What I think many fail to see is that I am learning and growing so much as the result of working with H. And as much as I can pontificate and wonder about my relationship with God and where He is leading me, there is also the physical side of this, I feel I have to be "holding hands" with those whom God places in my life. As I look back over my life, I am saddened by my failures to hold the hand of those who have loved me. It seems those I love the most I am the most impatient with. Those I love the most, I hold forgiveness over them as if it were an unattainable prize. Those I love the most I have mouthed words that have incredible hurt behind them. When I look at all of these actions and the pain I have for having done them, it can seem to be too much to overcome. Then I remember what H and God have taught me, all I gotta do is hold hands. When I want to run away for fear of being hurt, hold hands. When I want to yell and scream because I don't feel like talking gently will convey my emotions, hold hands. When I want to hold on to resentments, I must empty my hands in order to hold your hand.

It is so simple, yet so hard. My heart is full of gratitude for God, H, and all those who have held my hand, even when I tried to run away...