Truth Spoken Here
My daughter, Hannah, has been home with us in America for nearly two years. She arrived speaking little to no English. As time progressed, she has expanded her vocabulary and can hold her own in almost any conversation. But there are still quirks to her spoken language that occasionally change the meaning of her words ever so slightly. I have to confess that there are times when I've taught (and taught and taught and taught!) the same grammar or phonics rule so many times that I cringe when I hear it misspoken again.
Powerful storms rocked the Chicago area just around bedtime. For those who are familiar with Wrigley Field, you'll appreciate that the entire upper deck was cleared when the tornado sirens blared. And the storms intensified as they crossed the border into Indiana, where the town of Griffith was declared a disaster area.
This morning, we surveyed the damage to the Ark. A broken flower pot here, a few scattered items there and as if needing to prove its own strength, our heavy Vermont Castings grill pushed by the wind across the deck. Not much by comparison, thankfully. Then we saw the pictures from Griffith. The witnesses spoke of the terror and destruction, shards of glass flying through the air, screaming until their throats were sore for loved ones. Miraculously, not a single life was lost.
Hannah studied my face after the news was over and then matter-of-factly made this observation:
Hannah: Those storms was very bad.
Me: (doing the cringing grammar thing) Yes, those storms were very bad.
Hannah: (considering the situation for a moment) But, Mom---it's good no one was hurt. They can fix the house but they can no fix the people.
I thought about correcting her grammar--for about a milli-second--but decided it wasn't necessary. It hadn't affected her comprehension a bit.