Heroes and Hearing Aids

 

Mapping out a possible site plan for our next property.

Suradet arrives at the door to the guest house and, speaking Thai, lets us know that our breakfast is on the table. I get up to get ready and Ken gives me that look. Oh, right. He doesn’t know what was said. “That’s the call to breakfast”, I tell him.

That’s a small one.

Offertory is done on Sunday morning and, speaking Thai into the mic, Suradet invites Ken to pray over what has been gathered. I turn to Ken and translate, but Ken still can’t quite hear me above the noise of the fan. He decides to just go with a good guess, and goes up to the platform and prays.

That’s a bigger one.

And it’s happening all the time.

Pacing out possible grading requirements.

Whenever you take on a cross cultural adventure you know you’re going to run into communication risks. It’s just the nature of the game. I’ve written my fair share of anecdotal posts recounting my many mistakes and misses, some hilarious (Where is my poo?), others somewhat unfortunate (When I thought someone called me fat just before I got up to preach and I let it be a distraction). I am trying to learn not just the language but also the cultural nuances of communicating important ideas, concepts and feelings in Thai. It’s hard.

But for Ken there is an additional factor.

Half the time, he can’t hear what’s being said even in English. A familial hearing loss reality makes navigating conversations and relationships that much more of a thing. He wears hearing aids now in both ears, and is pretty much legally deaf without them. Even in our regular lives, in English and with me raising my volume most of the time, this is something we are always dealing with.

And then we fly half way around the world to where quiet-spoken people speak an entirely strange language.

I hadn’t really noticed this in his previous two visits, even though I’m sure it was there. Either way, this time I am rather impressed with the character and patience it takes for him to be here with this specific difference in ability. The sense that you are always just one step behind, that everyone else seems to know what’s going on, or what’s so funny, and you’re the odd one out - that’s hard on anyone’s self esteem. We’ve all been there from time to time. But if it’s a constant, underlying factor in the overall experience, that’s wearing.

To put it simply, it makes you feel stupid. And not very many of us can stand up against that and stay true to ourselves after days and days of it. Those who can are to be commended.

Some heroes wear hearing aids. I happened to have snagged one for a husband. And in this trip particularly, I so admire his patience, his willingness to go with the flow and wait until he has more context, his graciousness with non-English speakers (not always something foreigners – and dare I say it, white Boomer males – are known for here), and his enviable ability to not take himself too seriously.

Cross cultural communication is a huge dynamic in building the kind of relationships we are committed to at New Family Foundation. As Highview’s Missionary in Residence, I will continue to lead into reciprocity and respect in every way possible. Although I confess that I struggle, I will continue to press myself to learn the language and the culture, even though mistakes will undoubtedly continue to be made, and often as not I feel foolish.

And I am glad to keep learning from Ken too.

He is, after all, my hero on so many levels.