A Beautiful Silence

I don’t quite know when it started; my love of sign language.  I seem to have always had a fascination with it.  I mostly told no one.  I think my sister taught me the alphabet when I was a little girl; I don’t remember not knowing it.  When I was in college I had a class with a girl who was deaf and had an interpreter.  I think I failed the class because I didn’t pay attention to the instructor, I paid attention to the interpreter.  I so badly wanted to know what she was signing.

To be able to hear this silent language.  To speak what is not heard.  To express in a way that is not verbal.  To put my entire being into expression.

Oh, I talk with my hands.  A friend recently said she thought I already knew sign language because I’m always talking with my hands and it looked like it made sense.   Well, no, not really, but, yes, I express with my hands.  I do my job faster when I don’t talk, because I have to stop what I’m doing and talk with my hands when I talk.  Not conducive to taking care of my clients in a timely manner.  But, it just happens.

So, maybe it’s just a “personality” thing – the talking with my hands.  Maybe it has nothing to do with my desire to know sign language.  Or, maybe, everything.

Perhaps that trait in me was divinely ingrained in my soul.  Perhaps for a purpose.

Perhaps.

Or, maybe it’s just something I find interesting, for no lasting purpose, for no reason at all.  I cannot choose to believe that this is the case.  I will not choose to believe that this is the case.

I think there is a reason.  I think I have possibly wasted too much time making excuses.  I think I should have worked harder in years past to pursue the knowledge.  I think I think too much.

I think I wish I could explain why I love the language so much.  But, I can’t.  I am fascinated, awed, humbled, amazed, delighted, enthralled, curious.

I have half-heartedly searched over the years for a class to take.  But, had no success in my search.  As usual, I gave up too early.  I do have two clients who are non-hearing and American Sign Language is their primary language.  They have taught me basics over the last few years, but it is difficult to learn much when you only have a short time with them every month.  Of course, they have been very patient with me; and they read lips fantastically.

Then, last year I met a new friend at church.  A young man whose first language is American Sign Language, or ASL.  Darrin was invited to our church by a co-worker.   Our communication, at first, was limited at best.  But he was so patient with me, and all of us at church.  He began to teach us as we made our way through conversation; slowly.  Sometimes easy, sometimes frustratingly, always gracious.

Soon, Darrin began teaching a class after church.  A real class!  I tried to soak it all in and make it feel as natural as possible.  Oh, my, so much to learn.

 So much to remember!

So much to feel.

Vocabulary.  Oh, my.  I haven’t been in school in decades!  Decades, ya’ll! This is a challenge.  And, I think I am on the verge of failing.  Well, maybe not failing, but not ace-ing it, either.  I want the knowledge and ability to just magically be there.  That’s not how it works.   I know this.  I must commit to more.  To study, to practice, to make my teacher proud.

Darrin soon began to bring his friend, Derek, to church with him.  Derek also communicates through ASL.  He is a cut-up, teasing me A LOT and changing my ‘sign name’ often, depending on what silly thing I have done that day.  He comes to class and helps us learn.  He is very patient with us, too, and bridges the gap often.

I am sure I unknowingly commit offenses to the deaf community.  I do not know all the rules of their world.  I do not mean to offend, unfortunately I do it out of ignorance.

Learning ASL, being around Darrin and Derek, it causes me to think about things.  What is it like to not hear? What is is like to feel vibrations?  What is it like to not hear music?  What is it like to not know what someone’s name sounds like?  How do you explain pitch, birds singing, hands clapping, glass breaking, crowds yelling, animal sounds, the sound of a waterfall, a child’s laughter.

 Or, does it really matter?

If I never heard all those sounds again, would I, could I, still worship my Lord?  Does it take me hearing the sounds to which I am accustomed to worship with what I think is a pure heart?

I hope not.

I hope I have learned enough from my friend Darrin that if I never heard another sound again, I would still worship deep within my soul, like he does.  You see, Darrin tells me he sings in his heart while he works.

But how can this be?

He has never heard a piano, a guitar, a drum.

Perhaps this is what Scripture means when it says “worship in spirit and in truth.”

Perhaps I should meditate on that Scripture a while longer.

The sounds in my world are too loud,  I cannot hear the sound of the song in my heart.

So, who hears better, me or Darrin?

I dare say, Darrin.

He hears with his heart.

Perhaps I am just coming to the revelation that communication is done with words, hands.  But hearing is done with the soul.  I wish to communicate with my hands; I long to hear with my soul.

I am thankful for my friends Darrin and Derek, who have taught me so much, given me much laughter and filled my heart with joy.  They are great young men, who “make a mother proud.”  I know I speak for all of our friends at church when I say we are thankful to have them in our lives.