If you have been reading along for awhile, you know that our home is a home that hosts many different languages.
In the day to day stuff, it is no big deal. I mean, we can't play a good game of Balderdash or Scattergories, but life is good, and in my opinion, we communicate pretty well.
But my opinion is not always reality.
Far too often feelings are hurt and decisions are made based on a failure to communicate.
Let's face it, even in the most homogeneous of environments, people can struggle with effective communication.
We all speak a different language based on our history. Garth comes from a Deaf home. English was not his first language, ASL was. His family also had some pretty unique dynamics that have colored the way that he has learned to deal with communication. I bring my upbringing where '
People that stay with us not only bring their language; they bring their culture, their faith, their hurts and disappointments, and their prejudices. For better or worse.
Communication can be bumpy and laughable at best and devastating at worst.
One of the laughable moments was last night when Grace was trying to explain to Daniel what the blue things were in his arms.
"Those are veins."
"Dey are not veins. I have blood whistles!"
It took me a second. Haha.
But it makes perfect sense! He is taking a word that he hears and fitting it into the context he understands.
When he first came home he LOVED the song "Proof of Your Love" by Casting Crowns. He would bellow along, making a joyful noise. (He is totally tone deaf, but what he lacks in gifting, he makes up for in volume).
After a few weeks, I started really listening. It wasn't his accent. No. He was singing "Poop of Your Love" instead of "PROOF."
I asked him if he knew what "proof" meant.
Ay
