I find myself in the front of a crowd of 30 deaf children. We traveled to a school in the back villages of India, for children with special needs. Most of them can’t hear. Some of them can’t speak. Some of them are mentally retarded. Yet that didn’t stop us from screaming the Banana Song at the top of our lungs. We we’re jumping and clapping and screaming. Sound didn’t stop these kids from laughing and having the best day. Without words, 4 boys taught me the Indian alphabet in sign language. Joy doesn’t always stem from words.
Because love speaks no language.
I find myself in South India, helping my host mom clean her home. We’re deep cleaning the few square feet that they have. A church member from down the street is helping us, and has been hanging around our house for a few days. She doesn’t speak a lick of english. Through lots of pointing and motions, I asked her her name. I asked her if I could help with the dishes she was doing. She handed me a rag and smiled. This was the first time I had ever seen her smile.
Because love speaks no language.
I find myself in a tuk-tuk on the way to a village to preach and share stories about Jesus. We’re driving down the highway and our driver flags down a large truck that looks like it’s carrying masses of small logs. We pull over and so does the large truck. We learn it’s not logs, but sugar cane— loads of it. The driver climbs to the top and throws us down sticks of sugar cane, plenty for each of us. He hops back in and gets on his way. Free sugarcane on the way to ministry by a man who graciously gave it to us. No words were exchanged, just smiles of excitement.
Because love speaks no language.
