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?