When I was small, I spent many summers with my grandparents.  I’d be in rural Missouri and the suburbs of St. Louis with one set and small town West Texas with the other.  In West Texas, I was part of a very mixed community.  At the park, we’d play marvelously complex games on the train or covered wagon.  Sometimes we all spoke English but that wasn’t always the case.

I later discovered that my grandmother worried about my meager Spanish.  “How could you know what they were saying?”

She assumed it could be something bad.  I was even more certain that we were simply cheering each other on.  I couldn’t hear their words and understand, but in my heart?  I was certain and I am still am.

See with your heart.