Larry

Larry is a 66 year old with a severe case of cerebral palsy. He can't walk or speak, it appears he can't do anything on his own. The first couple days I spent with Larry I couldn't identify very much expression. I only saw sign language for yes, no, bathroom, and his medication soma ( which is a peace sign :) Then I started to distinguish his smile and watched how people handled him who have known him for a long time. He wasn't as fragile as he looked. I started to understand "yeah" as an excited response to "are you having a good time?" or "do you want to dance?" I watched his counselor dress him, feed him, put him to bed, help him go to the bathroom, shower him, I wanted to help the girl, but I made up I wasn't qualified to handle Larry. I hadn't had my Larry moment.
A few days in to camp we were loading out of the vans and I snagged little Larry, cradled him in my arms, and just kept holding him instead of putting him back in his wheel chair. As we were walking back to the house I was joking with him about how he uses that wheel chair way to much and how I should just carry him from now on. He formed his excited "YEAH" with a smile and we plopped down on a couch outside. He used what little control he has of his arms and wrapped them around me and put his head on my shoulder. A few friends had circled around us to see what all the excitement was about, take a photo, and get in on the Larry love. We were tickled by the smile and happiness he was expressing, I was having my Larry moment. As if the love wasn't being expressed clearly enough through the snuggling and smiling, Larry formed the words loud and clear. " I LOVE YOU!" I could feel Larry's love before he even said it, hearing it was a gift.
In the 12 days I spent with Larry I never heard him say anything else. My housemate, who took the photo, said he's never heard Larry make a sentence.
Since camp ended I've been so present to the power or words and more importantly how they FEEL. It's so easy for the people that are blessed with speech to say things like I love you, to apologize, and to forgive. But Larry got me thinking... How often do we use our words as a crutch to create something inside of us that we desire, but might not truly be present? Is it possible for us to shut our mouths and feel? It seems like taking that on would allow so much more space for human connection. you say I love you, but can that person really feel your love? you say I apologize, but can that person really feel your apology? you say I respect you, but can that person really feel your respect? you say I forgive you, but can that person really feel your forgiveness?  Of course, in the end, the person on the receiving side is the one who determines those feelings. However, if my intention is to tell someone I respect them I would I would look to see if any of my actions would make them feel otherwise. Actions speak louder than words, right?  But it's so easy for us to just talk. I've had a tough time expressing myself since camp. Well, it feels like I have anyway. It seems like words diminish the feeling backing them and everything gets mixed up into a big pile of miscommunication.
So, I'm committed to finding the balance between action & words, expression & silence, and being as beautiful expressed as Larry. That "I love you" will be felt forever.