Talk To The Hand

Many months ago I was at the National Missionary Convention in Indy. It was a very good time, complete with all the fun that comes with travel. I always come away from those things feeling small which is quite cool.

On this particular trip I was able to teach an elective for the Indiana Christian Teen Convention dealy-o in this facinating little room. <>

Right before my little shindig, an adult session had occured in the room which was taught by and attended entirely by hearing impaired people. Obviously they used sign language and since the class ran a little long and I showed up a little early, I "listened in" on the last few minutes of the class and then watched all the customary post-class conversation.

Tonight in the midst of the singing at Know Sweat I noticed a girl who was using sign language as she sang. I find myself finding sign language mysterious and beautiful.

I remember when Ang and I lived in Quincy and the church was signing all the services and a good friend of ours would do all the signing and I would find myself watching this happen out of curiosity and facination.

It got me to thinking about something we tell students at Know Sweat all the time, that you can speak without using your mouth or your voice. Both literally with your hands or literally, with your hands.

Today I saw a group painting the home of a muslim woman, a group serving the city of Cincy by repairing and rebuilding a city park, a group serving a woman who's not liked by her community because her house is a mess--and the city is literally driving by thanking them and watching.

A local TV station is filming at a couple sites this week and have done some interviews because they are doing a series on teens and money and can't get over the fact that kids would pay money to serve in a city other than the one they live in.

So I guess I'm sitting in this subpar dorm with a nice internet connection wondering why we don't shut up and start talking more often. I wonder why it is so amazing when students do it and so unremarkable when adults stop.