No words needed

A couple of Sundays ago, I was just starting my weekly sick visits with three Eucharistic ministers from the Church. We visit two houses that are mere minutes from both my house and the Church and so this morning activity is generally pretty short. I recently changed the group I went with because the previous lady made me feel as though I was delivering drive thru communion and NASCAR driving my way through the Our Father and Hail Mary wasn’t the way I wanted to start Sunday mornings. Now, I spend an hour or so visiting two houses and this certain Sunday experienced something beautifully human with no words necessary.

Our first house is just one block from the Church and is the home of Dona Evalina. She is an elderly woman with a very bad leg that prevents her from leaving her house frequently. But, she is an old crinkly lady and so of course I love her. She has beautiful soft wrinkled hands and gives some of the biggest, warmest hugs in Talanga. When we enter the house, there are always chairs set up around an altar for me, the Eucharistic ministers and Dona Evalina and then behind us on the other side of the room are two couches. After we had finished delivering communion and praying, we sat down for coffee and cake and were joined by two of the children of the house. One named David is a co-radio member with me and so jokes and playfulness started and then with David was another boy named Dennis Francisco. So imagine this if you can, I am seated in a semi circle around the altar with the three older minister ladies and Dona Evalina and David and Dennis are seated behind us on one of the couches. Well, as conversation bloomed between the older ladies, my focus switched to David and Dennis. Dennis is deaf and so instead of the loud, joking banter than usually occurs between two nine or ten year olds, a just as vivid conversation was taking place in actions. Some story about driving was reenacted with an imaginary steering wheel and the emotion filled face of Dennis depicted the urgency of needing to stop the car suddenly. And then the story continued with some punches being thrown and even maybe a kiss I think. I caught his eyes as he was reliving his story for David and he grinned at me and then pointing at David did the finger swirling beside the head to universally signify crazy. But, his face is captivating. With no words to describe feelings, his face is the canvas with which he shares his feelings. Every emotion is exaggerated and so a happy face is a smile that lights up his whole face and reaches literally from ear to ear and a sad face is a frown with a bottom lip that pokes out. He is beautifully expressive and has no need for words.

Our second house takes us to Cassie, a 13 year old girl who had meningitis, and now is unable to walk. Her brain stopped developing at a young age and now she does not speak and spends most of her time on the floor or forced into a wheel chair. She hates being in the wheel chair, but when we come to give her the Eucharist, she is always in it. The only thing that comforts her is the presence of her aunt by her side and usually holding her hand and with her arm around her. This Sunday, nothing was different except that instead of being put in a corner in her wheel chair with nowhere to go to, she was on the other side of the circle in a space in which she could move back and forth in the wheelchair. During the prayers, she wheeled back and forth being very wary as to where I was. When we go to the Our Father, she wheeled forward as I walked towards her and then we held hands and prayed. Afterwards, my hand was tightly held by her and she pulled my arms towards and laid her head against my arm. We stayed like that for a minute or maybe less, but it was probably one of the highs of my day. With no words, she gently made me feel significant. She made me feel comforting and included. She didn’t need words to make me feel that way.

And so on this one Sunday morning, two children showed me the beauty of actions that don’t need to be explained by words. So many times, we as adults or young people believe that actions speak louder than words but always feel the need to explain our actions just in case they are misinterpreted or just to make sure that people understand. But maybe these words shouldn’t be necessary if the actions are speaking clearly enough by themselves.