photo taken with permission from @sweetersidemom |
When I was about six years old I told my mom I wanted to
learn how to talk with my hands. My mom, not exactly sure what I meant by that
statement, bought me my first sign language book for Christmas. I
poured over that book and taught myself how to sign and became fluent by age
ten. I loved signing my favorite songs and interpreting television shows and
commercials as a means to practice. My freshman year of high school was the
first year that the state of Texas accepted American Sign Language as a foreign
language requirement. So of course, I signed up and not only learned more about
ASL but also about the deaf culture. When I graduated high school, I had the
opportunity to become a sign language interpreter at the same high school I
graduated and then later found my way to an elementary school where I was an
interpreter for several years. I went on to take ASL in college and joined a
group of deaf collage students who meet up each week in the cafeteria. I’m sure
they were curious to know my fascination with the language and culture, but
they were always generous, patient, and accepting of a hearing person who so
loved their language and wanted to communicate with them.
Will was born deaf and raised in a hearing family. He
learned to lip read and took extensive speech classes for several years. Although
he was learning sign language, he only had access to oral interpreters throughout his education. After high school, he went off to the University of North Texas
where our paths would soon cross.
For several years my mom and I attended a women’s retreat through
our church. One year in our small group I met Randi. She was an ASL interpreter
at both the college I attended as well as my church. When she found out I was
also an interpreter she invited me to worship with her the following Sunday,
which I did. At first Randi and I were the only two people worshiping in the
reserved section until, from the corner of my eye, I noticed a young man who walked
in just before the sermon began. After church Randi introduced us. We talked
for nearly an hour when suddenly, with a puzzled look on his face, he asked me a
bizarre question, “are you deaf or hearing”? I laughed and said I’m
hearing. This was the beginning of a three-year
courtship and we married in 2005. Randi was the interpreter at our wedding.
It’s funny because I don’t think of our story as being
particularly special or unique until I remember that God ordained it all before the foundation of the earth.
I don’t ever want to take away from His goodness and provision. Only God could create such a beautiful story: a hearing person with one foot
in the deaf world and a deaf person with one foot in the hearing world who, by
the grace of God, met, married, and are building a beautiful, messy, slightly crazy, wonderful life together. I’m so thankful
His plans are exceeding better than mine.
Nothing says I love you more than lasagna. Am I right? If you're wanting an easy (and I do mean easy) recipe to a classic meal to celebrate this day of love, check out my post called 'love & lasagna'. Happy Valentines Day!
I do love a good love story.
I would love to read yours in the comment below.
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ReplyDeleteI remember when you used to be my interpreter in elementary school and interpreted some in middle school. I still remember meeting Will for the first time outside of art class. I did now know he was Deaf! You were the nicest interpreter I had the pleasure of knowing. You treated me with so much kindness and I will always remember that. I was so sad when I didn't have you as an interpreter and a friend anymore! Thank for the memories!
ReplyDeletethanks esther. i loved being your interpreter and also have so many good memories. i'm so happy i can keep up with your life (at least a little bit) on social media. it makes my heart so happy that you are doing well!
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