Language of Love

If you were to visit my house while my crew was sitting around, fiddling on their electronic devices, cleaning, folding laundry or working on homework some Saturday morning, the probability is high that you'd hear them singing a really (and I mean really) silly song called The Language of Love (by Ylvis). When I was a kid, it was Weird Al Yankovich... When my bigs were littles, it was Silly Songs with Larry. 

Today, we've got Ylvis and this song is all about a "puppy love affair", where a man and a seal fall in love and sing to each other. Ridiculous? Yes! But my kids have a blast, laughing and singing all in good fun, especially when someone decides to imitate the seal as she sings her love back to the man.

On a cold, snowy, blowy, white-outy wintry morning when all has been canceled and all have been advised to hunker down and shelter in place,  I've heard the song a few times. Funny thing? The title lines right up with reflections I've had this past week, returning to school... and ministry... after the Christmas holiday.

Many are familiar with Gary Chapman and the five "love languages:

1. words of affirmation, 
2. physical touch, 
3. acts of service, 
4. gifts and 
5. quality time. 

My love language is, without a doubt, words of affirmation. I feel most loved when people gift me words, sincere and quality words. I feel most loved by God when I spend time studying, meditating and drinking in His Word. I most naturally and easily love and minister to others through words, both written and spoken.

At least until the last couple of years. Doing life and ministry in French makes communicating and using words well more challenging, complicated and definitely more exhausting.

There's no doubt about it. I just can't use words nearly so easily or as well. In fact, I am pretty sure I often sound like the "seal singing" part of the above mentioned song. Therefore, since moving to Quebec I've been pushed - more than ever before - to learn new ways to communicate God's love, ones that aren't so "word-heavy," ones such as acts of service, and quality time. 

Unsurprisingly (even though head-in-the-sand-me managed to be surprised) communicating love via those secondary and tertiary for me languages demands an investment, a significant one, of additional effort and time. Words are easy and natural, at least for this introvert. Those other love languages require that I do what comes much less naturally. Even when I do try to fall back on words, my first instinct and characteristic choice, additional time and effort is required.  

And while I can't quantify this type of daily life effort in the same way I can calculate effort using a physics equation, I have ascertained the following:

• Compared to what I experienced while living in the developing world (i.e. my daily life in Niger), much less physical effort is required to "do life" in Quebec... and that's taking into account all the inconveniences that are a part of dealing with lots of cold and snow.
• On the other hand, even though the French language has been an important aspect of of life and ministry in both places, in Quebec, it encompasses the majority of all I do. Most days, I communicate more in French than in English. I can do it, but the mental effort is significant.
• When we first started this adventure 20+ years ago, I had no clue what choosing to live life in a language other than your maternal tongue demands. Today, I have enormous respect those who, whether by choice or necessity, do so.
• My appreciation of those who regularly demonstrate love using one of the other "love languages" is increasing exponentially.
• I'm learning to better recognize and appreciate those gifts of love when they are shared with me.
• I'm thankful that using my less "natural" love languages is deepening my daily dependence on God, because I feel unable, tired and out of my league.
• I'm learning to turn first to God's Word to help me communicate love when I want to use words, as well as to recognize when words just might not be the most effective tool.

Perhaps most significant of all, I'm realizing anew, literally every morning, just how dependent I am on God and his Spirit if I want to demonstrate and share his love - steadfast, sure and new every morning - regardless of the language.

I'm Braver speaking French

Does that seem strange to you?

It did to me too, at first.

But it is something I'm noticing to be true, beyond any shadow of a doubt.

Apparently I'm also not the only person who's made this discovery.

What do I mean? Here's one example:

I was in a Tim Hortons parking lot (I often meet English language students there). The spaces are a little on the small side to begin with and once the snow falls and begins to be shoved, shoveled, blown and piled, the available space decreases. I parked my larger than average vehicle, carefully and very clearly in between the yellow lines demarking my space. Yet it was impossible to exit the car without my door touching the door of the vehicle beside me. I was scrupulously attentive - I did not want my black door to leave a trace on the white one beside me. Unbeknownst to me, however, the driver of that white car was watching - also attentively. And he wasn't happy when he saw the contact. He started hollering across the parking lot. It was in French and a good portion of it I did not understand, but there was no doubt about the gist: he was unhappy and he wasn't concerned about politeness. 

Normally I'd just ignore a monsieur like him and simply walk into the restaurant. I'm not one for this sort of confrontation if I can avoid it... But I didn't avoid. 

Instead, I walked up to him and said something along these lines, in French: "Sir, because you are an older gentleman, I'm going to speak to you respectfully. However, your age does not give you the right to impolitely scream at me from across the parking lot. I understand that you were concerned about your vehicle, however I was very careful and if you come with me, you will see there are no marks on your car." He walked over, admitted that there were no marks and then stomped off. (By the way, when we very occasionally cross paths at this same Tim Hortons, he now smiles and says "Bonjour..." for what that's worth.)

Never in a million years would I have done the same thing with a stranger in an English speaking environment. 

Why this difference?

I don't know what the professional consensus is for those who study this phenomenon; the article linked to above says that it probably has more to do with a different cultural context and less with the actual language context. But, for what it is worth, here are what I think might be at least a few of my reasons.

• I learned to speak French as an adult, with more maturity, greater confidence and a better awareness of who I am and why I'm here. Though I do still care (a lot), I am not as enslaved to what others think as I was when younger; I'm significantly more concerned about what God thinks.

• I learned to speak French after becoming a mother. I can't think of any other experience God has gifted me that consistently offers me opportunities to model humility, teachability, perseverance, gentleness and a heart of service - even when all I really want to do is turn off the lights, crawl under the covers (or desk... depends on where I am) and hide from the world.

• Learning to speak another language requires losing face. The controlled, refined and very perfectionist image of me that I want to be and desire to present to the rest of the world usually ends up looking undignified, incompetent and just plain and stupid. 

This year, I'm again volunteering at the school my kids attend and working more in French than I ever have before. I regularly sound like an idiot, am at a complete loss for words, have to ask people to repeat themselves or have to repeat myself, am corrected by giggling five and six year olds, and say things that are culturally stupid because I've translated (more or less) from English 

 Perhaps most discouraging and frustrating of all are those misunderstandings that pop up because my American-English-brained-way of trying to communicate something apparently doesn't come across the same way to a Quebec-French-brained-way of understanding. Helping students learn - a domain in which I've mostly excelled - requires a lot of work in my second language. It is exhausting. Oh yeah, did I also mention that at some point during the day, my head just starts to hurt. A lot.  

Once you get used to regularly eating crow, well... you get used to it and it isn't as hard to do again. However, that doesn't mean it has suddenly become palatable. Distasteful? Probably until the day I die.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Now, I don't want to make it sound all miserable. I was sitting at a ladies' breakfast recently - listening and participating in conversations with some precious women from our church (in French of course) - and I was overwhelmed by amazed gratefulness, because there I was, enjoying understanding and speaking a language that was not my mother tongue. 

But I also don't want you to think that just because it has been 17 years, it has become effortless and easy...

And perhaps challenge you to remember that the next time you run across someone who's first language is not English, or who's home culture is not your own.

Five Minute Friday ~ Define

On April 22, Tim and I are scheduled to take a French test - actually four tests: Oral Comprehension, Oral Expression, Written Comprehension and Written Expression. We need to attain a certain level of proficiency if we then want to submit applications for permanent residency.

It seems simple. We studied French for a year. Then we lived and worked in a French speaking environment for 13 years. After a two year hiatus, we moved back to a different French speaking world and are living and working here. We go to the doctor, buy our groceries, pay our taxes, have parent-teacher conferences, go to planning meetings, go to church, teach Sunday School, take classes and do volunteer work - all in French.

Yet, when I started studying this morning and worked through a brief online get-your-feet-wet-and-see-what-the-questions-on-the-test-are-like web page, I realized the oral comprehension part wasn't going to be easy (or they are trying to scare people into paying for the study courses - but that sounds awfully conspiracy theory-ish). Maybe it's because my older than they used to be ears just hear slower these days, or the mild but definite loss of hearing acuity I've experienced the last few years or  just the fact that oral comprehension has always been my weakest French language skill - but now I'm more than a little nervous about this test.

Every other practice section I did, I did really well. Oral comprehension? Not so much.

Being a good student... particularly a good test taker... is one of several things, I realized today, that I've allowed to define me. In the residency paperwork, we specify one spouse (i.e. Tim or myself) as the primary applicant. That person has to score higher than the other - and both Tim and I naturally assumed that person would be me.

Talk about pressure. Turning up the heat. Or mettant les bouchées doubles...

Yeah.

It is crazy how concern over one 25 minute, 29 question test scheduled a few weeks in the future has set my world a-spinning today...

You'd think that at my age, it would take a little more to upset the apple cart! 

Photo 1 credit: 

Natalia Medd Round and Round via photopin (license)

Photo 2 credit: 

[-ChristiaN-] carousel via photopin (license)

Five Minute Friday ~ Here

Every immigrant who comes here 

should be required 

within five years 

to learn English or leave the country.

~ Theodore Roosevelt 

I wrote about this subject a few weeks back...

My sentiments used to echo those of President Roosevelt. 

My husband's, as well as many of my friends, probably still do. Yet, I can't, after having lived as an expat in a foreign country for several years and struggling without a ton of success to try and learn another language, without the benefit of resources and money to pay someone who knows how to teach, and almost nothing available geared toward my preferred learning styles, it is really hard for me to be so dogmatic. 

Being here in Niger, walking a mile (or more) in  language learning flip-flops with the hot season sand burning the soles of my feet, I'm learning to appreciate the "immigrant"/expat perspective on language learning. My guess is most people moving to a foreign country have great hopes, good intentions and lofty aspirations of learning the language of their host or new home country. After all, it is common sense. They'll go further and succeed more quickly if they can communicate with ease in the language of the people around them. They'll watch TV, listen to the radio, live immersed in new sounds, rhythms, etc., and somehow absorb this new language. 

But guess what. Life gets in the way. And unless a person make a concerted effort, she naturally and almost unknowingly slips into her more comfortable tongue every single time possible - for living in a new place takes so much effort, she's already exhausted and risking mis-communication or simply sounding stupid really has no appeal.

Yes. Current citizens holler to those wanting to become a part of their nation "Learn the language!" But most, at least in the US, have no idea just exactly what they are asking another to do because they've never been forced to survive in a tongue not their own. Is there a more compassionate way to address this issue? If you live near Ann Arbor and your new to the area Pakistani neighbor awkwardly lets you know that she'd like to practice her English, do you take the time to invite her for tea a couple of times each week and patiently sit with her and encourage her to use her language? Or do you see foreigner wearing a head covering and wonder if her bearded husband is actually a terrorist and an oppressor of women? Me? I'd probably have those or some similar sorts of thoughts and then hope I'd listen to the Holy Spirit as He convicts me and begin opening my home and building a relationship with a woman I'm sure to find is much more like me than she is different, even though our home cultures are literally worlds apart.

And I'd also hope I'd make the effort to great her in her language, even as she becomes more comfortable in mine.

When I'm standing here, in my shoes, it is easy to ignore those different, other "heres." But they are every bit as real.

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Yep! It's another Five Minute Friday with Lisa Jo... even if I'm running late today. Hope you'll give it a try this week - it really is a great exercise - and be sure to leave me a comment with the link if you do.

Head over to Lisa Jo's to read all sorts of other 5 minute musings on the word "here," and to see the "how-to" rules!

 

let's talk about speaking that local language

I'm from the States.

Have you ever heard someone outright say or imply that foreigners who move to the States just need to learn to speak English?

I have.

Many years ago, I think I might have actually said it myself. Something to the effect of: "If they want to come live in our country, they need to learn to communicate in English."

I don't feel nearly so dogmatic about it, now.

Maybe because I've walked more than a single mile in those shoes. And I probably have many more to walk...

There's a joke you hear circulating in many expat communities. I've heard a few variations, but it basically goes like this:

What do you call someone who speaks two languages?  

~ Canadian

What do you call someone who speaks three languages?

~ European or South American

What do you call someone who speaks four languages?  

~ Asian 

What do you call someone who speaks five or more languages? 

~ African

What do you call someone who speaks only one language? 

~ American

And people laugh - especially in those expatriate circles.

Why is it funny? Because... in the majority of instances, it is true - sadly and sometimes embarrassingly so.

Connor Ludovissy, in an article titled "Monolingual America" published on line in September of 2011, writes: 

...The vast majority of us are more or less globally illiterate, despite the growing number of people in the United States for whom English is not a first language. In the age of globalization, United States citizens must learn to speak more than English or face the consequences – a weaker position internationally and an increasingly difficult time communicating back in the States. 

According to the United States Census Bureau, 47 million United States residents reported that they spoke a language other than English at home in 2000. In 2007, that number jumped to 55 million. That’s about 14 and 18 percent of the population, respectively. Not only that, but Americans do business all over the world and offer aid to numerous countries in times of distress. We negotiate with foreign governments and merchants, we tour foreign countries and we study abroad at foreign schools. Yet only 26 percent of adult Americans claim to speak a foreign language well enough to maintain a conversation, according to the Gallup organization. 

How could this happen? How could a country with such far-reaching influence have so little experience with foreign languages? How could the so-called “melting pot of the world” be an English-only environment? 

The answer is pretty simple – our disregard for other languages probably stems from good, old fashioned arrogance. We perceive that we do not need to learn any languages other than English, so we don’t. As a powerful country, we prefer to make other countries learn our language instead of learning theirs.

As one who is working on learning bits and pieces of both 3rd and 4th languages, as one who still struggles to communicate in the truly local heart languages of the people who live all around me...

Can I encourage you to be gracious and welcoming when the Lord causes your path to intersect with that of someone who doesn't speak English? 

Can I also encourage you, that when God gives you the opportunity to friend someone who does not speak English as his/her first language, take the time and make the effort to learn some words in their mother tongue... their heart language... instead of insisting on English.