Mother Tongue
We’ve learned a great deal after spending a few days in an English campground.
“Soccer,” of course, is “football.”
“Tea” is dinner.
“Cream tea” is awesome, especially after a long hike.
And Jacob was born three days before Eli.
We know Jacob was born three days before Eli because Eli and Jacob shared their life stories one afternoon on the playground. “We asked each other lots of questions,” Eli says. “And we told each other lots of information.”
It was obvious during our weeks in France that we didn’t know the language. We wished, at times, that we could introduce ourselves to various neighbors and ask them about their barn, their crops, their dogs … and we laughed when we had to resort to various forms of charades to communicate.
But it hasn’t been until arriving here in England that we truly realize the power and the comfort of language … of communication as a means to people, to their stories, to sharing OUR story.
Our boys have played game after game of “football” with new camp friends Joshua, Joshua’s brother Liam, Viscente and Roberto from Spain, Stephen from Spain, Adam from Kent, and others. Another friend, Adam, taught us how to hit a cricket ball this morning. Suby and I shared tea one evening with a couple inside their mammoth tent. We’ve been invited to spend the night with another family when we drive north to the Lake District.
In short, I think ALL of us have been hungry for a kind of spoken fellowship — a kind of sharing fellowship … of words.
Well written and fascinating insights.
Sweet one. You are “hearing the echoes” of Babel and Pentecost on the playground. Thinking of you guys and enjoying your experiences — Anne
Cricket and tea with a spot (or more) of milk…couldn’t get any better my friend.
I so understand what you are saying as the kids and I had to deal with this when we first arrived in Belgium and all the kids in the parks spoke French.