My life as a linguist
Did you know I am a linguist?
A linguist is one who speaks several languages fluently.
If you know me this may come as a surprise. You thought I only knew American English and a little bit of pig Latin.
Hah!
The bible says in John 10:27: “My sheep listen to my voice; I know them and they follow me”
I live a backwards version of this verse. “It goes something like this: I listen to my sheep; I understand their language and I can serve and communicate with them”.
Confused? Let me explain.
Six has braces and a lot of other things going on in her sinus region. To make maters worse she speaks very fast (probably because so many people are speaking at once in our family). I am around her the most so I often find myself translating for others. I speak Six.
Seven is autistic. He doesn’t always say what he means. I usually understand what he means because I understand him. It’s a gift. I speak Seven.
Ten is a creature of habit and order. She eats pasta at most meals…served in a special yellow bowl…with the “Tony the Tiger” spoon only “Tony” is worn off. I can pick the right spoon out of a sea of many similar looking spoons.
When these criteria are not men she usually throws herself on the floor.
I speak 10.
If eleven doesn’t like what is for dinner she heads for the bathroom where she spits out dinner in the waste basket. Those of us who speak her language usually head her off to be sure she swallows before entering the powder room.
I speak Eleven.
Eight is a people pleaser. She also has an unquenchable appetite. She will say she likes everything we serve for dinner but if it doesn’t vanish from her plate in 30 seconds then we know she is not be forthright.
I speak Eight.
I think I speak everyone’s language.
It’s a gift.
A gift to be a linguist…and to have so many people I love around me that I have developed this occupational vocation.
Hey – another skill for the resume!
