I recognize that language shapes our understanding of the world.  We’re limited enough to not  understand that which we have no word for.  And our language is limited in its own right.  The word love could mean anything from the intense desire that a man has for his wife to a hunger crave for a hamburger.  One word describing something so ethereal and the same word expressing something else entirely carnal.

Language is a living and breathing entity.  It evolves as it adapts to changing generations and societies, and yet it still is permanent enough to reflect the politics and mentalities of history.

It is so easy to fall into the trap of allowing our language to bond our relationships.  We fall on language and use it as an excuse for true action.  Love looses its status as a verb and becomes nothing more than four letters formed over the tongues of the lazy.

Being a mother has taught me so much about love.  My relationship with my son doesn’t require language for us to communicate our love for one another.

Before having a baby of my own, I could not possibly understand the connection that exists between a mother and her child.  I had no idea that our level of communication could be so strong without a word exchanged.

One little sigh reminding me about the preciousness of life.

One simple smile speaking of so much pleasure.

One giggle making the world a brighter place.

One tiny hand reaching out for Momma saying more than four simple letters ever could.