You are Beautiful

[Guest guest]

Kat here. When I read this I thought of the CMTers who think they are being

stared at.

I know that often people appear to be looking at someone, but their minds are

not engaged so they don't actually see what their eyes are aimed at. In other

words, they are not staring at you but they are vacantly looking into space.

On the other hand, might not some of them be wondering if whatever aids you

are using would be appropriate for themselves or someone they know? Might not

they actually be admiring you?

In any event, this is a lovely story.

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You Are Beautiful

by Fahncke

Not many people talk to my son. It isn't that they don't want to. Everyone

who sees him wishes they could. There is something so rare and beautiful

about him. I know I'm his mother, and I'm supposed to think that, but

strangers often come up to me and just announce how beautiful he is. Instead

of saying " Thank you " like any well-mannered mother would, I always look at

his beautiful chubby face, with its rosy cheeks, brilliant blue eyes, full

red lips, and in awe myself, I simply say " I know " . Something within him

bubbles over with life, it amazes even me.

My son is two years old. And he is Deaf.

I used to become embarrassed when strangers would stare at our conversations.

My hands flying, my face animated to express my " tone of voice " , and my

toddler's chubby hands fluttering with his baby signs, his face even more

animated than mine, I know it is something to see.

But embarrassment soon became pride when I learned that people were only

staring because they think our language is beautiful. Indeed it is. Many

times I have watched with joy, my heart bursting with pride and sheer love

when I see my baby speak with his hands. He can say more with his hands and

his face than most children his age can say with their voices. To me, nothing

is more beautiful than a child's small hands signing " I love you " , or " Mama,

hold me " .

People will walk up to us, sometimes embarrassed and nervous, sometimes shy,

but always curious about this beautiful language we use. Time and time again,

I am asked where they can learn to sign. What I used to mistake for rudeness

was simply admiration and the wishing of strangers that they could speak like

us.

However much they want to, most of the people in my little son's life cannot

speak to him. As a result, he goes through life in a silent confusion, with

only a very small percentage of the people he comes in contact with able to

communicate with him.

And when we do meet someone who " speaks " his language, it is a unique and

wonderful gift.

Last week our family went to a nearby Zuka Juice. We were enjoying each

other's company, laughing and talking together. The place was filling up

fast, and as usual, I noticed many people watching us sign with Noah. Near

the front door were two missionaries, young men dressed in suits. One of them

was staring intently at my conversation with Noah. Noah and I were laughing

as I was calling him a piggy and he was complying by slurping down his chocola

te/peanut butter shake.

The young missionary waited for Noah to turn his head and when he did, he

waved at Noah. Noah waved back and grinned his chocolatey two-year old smile.

What the young man did next made my heart leap and tears spring to my eyes.

I watched with amazement as his hands formed the signs for " You are

beautiful " . I choked back a sob and watched as he did it again. Noah turned

and looked at me, his eyes huge, as if to say " MOM, DID YOU SEE THAT?! " I

pointed to the young missionary and then showed Noah the sign for " friend " .

The young man then signed to Noah " How are you? " Noah did a few baby signs

back and, being two, that was the extent of his attention span. Grinning, the

young man told me his sister was fluent in ASL, and over the years he had

picked up on it. We made polite conversation, and all too soon it was time to

leave.

Although I'll never see that young man again, for a brief moment he gave me a

gift I won't forget. His conversation with my son was like a ray of sunshine.

Remembering his hands telling my child he is beautiful in his own language

still brings the tears. There aren't many moments like that for Noah, and I

will savor the memory always.

Fahncke

xoxosooz@...

Send an email and let her know what you thought of her writing! (If you

wish.)

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PS, my profoundly hard-of-hearing (from her pregnant mom having German

measles; the innoculations weren't available back then) niece is able to

speak clearly as well as sign. She taught her two children sign language when

they were infants. She could talk to them privately when she wanted to, and

they had a large signing vocabulary before they could speak. Their hearing is

fine, but they can talk to their mom's friends who only can sign, which is

fun for all.