Monday, November 21, 2011

Aw. Language.

So one nice thing about moving is you discover things you have had all over again. Like books. I had read Helen Keller's biography before but when I found it on the bookcase I knew I had to read it. Ms. Keller has been everywhere lately, in other people's random facebook posts, in little tidbits from radio hosts in between Newsboys  jams and Chris Tomlin's latest pop-rock hymn (am I the only one that thinks it's weird that pop-rock hymns are everywhere these days?) or most frequently my memories of her biography. Which I probably read when I was about thirteen. 
When I saw the biography on the shelf I smiled and immediately started devouring it. Before I knew it I was blubbering. What surprised me was what it taught me this time. How deeply important communicating with others truly is. 
Another reason I started to blubber a bit more was I realized as I read about a young woman's frustration with being trapped that little CJ's frustration was likely building with each passing day. Granted, on a much smaller level, as he's still a little guy, but as I watch him stamp his feet and screech I realize he is trapped. I also realized that I am blessed. All of us are who have our eyes and have our ears and can use our mouths to connect. 
When Helen's teacher enters her life and is able to give her language it is like she is reaching out to pull the child from an isolated dimension. Like suddenly Helen could join the land of everyone else. Could talk and be heard, could see and discover, could put words to the thoughts that were already there.  CJ clearly hears us. Clearly understands us. And clearly wants to talk. It's just nothing comes out. But: bah! Some random screeches. And then he gives up and starts asking for his bottle. That word he has nailed. That and tractor. 
There is hope though, for it's like the boy suddenly decided he wants to get this talking thing down. The game of pointing to objects, saying what they are, and then repeated the new word multiple times is now one of his favorite games. CJ rarely says one of these new words while the game is playing but will watch intently and then point to something different. Maybe about five days later he might blurt out one of the words. It's like he takes it all in and churns on it, like the kid is a crock-pot learner and I'm trying to teach him like Kaiya who was more of a microwave. 
If nothing else I go back to my prayers and trust that as much as I love CJ and want to help him the One who formed that little mouth that so often stays closed is in control. And He has made an amazing language that is telling the most incredibly beautiful story of all time. 
It's about communicating with the One who made communicating. It's about trusting Him to teach us what we need when we need it. And most of all, it's about letting Him love us madly and loving Him back.  

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