24 Mighty Kids Prove You Can Say ‘I Love You’ Without Words

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Words are overrated. At The Mighty, we know there are so many ways to express yourself without speaking. We wanted to know how your children and loved ones say “I love you” nonverbally, so we asked our readers to share some of their stories.

Here’s what you had to say:

1. “He used to take my face in his hands and put his head on mine and stare right into my eyes. His eyes said it all.” — Kate Sytsma

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Andrew and Caelum Sytsma

2. “She drops her head on my shoulder and holds for a few seconds. Then pops up, looks at me and smiles. I know exactly what she is saying.” — Christine Aguirrie Wingfield

3. “She plays peek-a-boo with me with her precious blankie, and when she covers my face with it, she leans in and touches her head to mine with the blanket between us.” — Melissa Cote

4.  “She smiles with her entire body.” — Lacey Smith

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Savannah Mae and Lacy Smith

5“When I’m not feeling well he always sits next to me, on my feet or crawls onto my lap (even though he’s the same size as me). Then he sings me pretty songs, just like I do to him. Everything he does just shows me how much he loves me. I’ve been longing to hear the words again since his last seizure seven years ago when his speech got set back again. But I think his actions speak louder than any words. His eyes and smile light up even my worst days.” — Cristin Nesius

6. “I was crying the other day after a frustrating, rough tantrum afternoon. She climbed in my lap, put her arms around my neck and patted my cheeks with sweet toddler hands.” — Shannon Rudolph White

 

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7. He lunges into my chest when I’m holding him and snuggles in!” — Angela Rae Rosenberg

8. “He not only lets me hold his hand, he holds on tighter than I do.” — Stacy’s Thirty-One

9. “Everyday he walks out of school and the minute he sees me waiting there in the car his whole face lights up. Makes my day.” — Judy Pamer

10. “She runs to me with a big grin and wraps her arms around my leg. Or puts her head on my shoulder.” – Angela Haynes

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Ellie Haynes

11. “Little pats, with sticky chubby hands. Little scoots on the couch to be near you. Little squishes of his cheek to yours complete with a slurpey smacking sound!” — Sherry C.

12. “He moves his lips. It’s his attempt to give me a kiss.” — Priscilla Zahner Rosenlund

13. Her giggles. It’s like the sun coming out of the rain.” — Maggie Fluck

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Rachel and Maggie Fluck

14. “Lays his head in my shoulder and then gives me a kiss. It’s a really gross, slobbery, open-mouthed baby kiss… but I love it.” — Erika Chwalik

15. “He’ll lay down, and pat the bed for me to lay down next to him, and when I do he’ll put his big arm (he has one “little” arm and one “big arm”) around my neck and snuggle me in close. Or I’ll pick him up, and he’ll put his head down on my shoulder and run his fingers through my hair. He’s 2 and it makes my heart melt every time.” — Kristin Calkin

16. “He grabs my face with his little hands and touches his sweet little nose to mine.” — Tammy Ellis Humphrey

17. “When I pick her up at school or when I come home from work and she sees me, she starts jumping up and down in the same spot with the biggest smile on her face. After like 15-20 seconds, she comes hopping towards me and gives me the best hug ever.” — Lorena Villalobos

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Florencia and Lorena Villalobos

18. “When friends/family come over, he hides their shoes so they can’t leave. We call it ‘I love you’ in ‘Jeremy-ese.'” — Diane Kim

19. “She lays her head on my shoulder or touches her forehead to mine.” — Melinda Brown

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Lila and Melinda Brown

20. He lets me hold him and sing ‘Rock-a-bye-baby.’ He sits only long enough to let me sing it then he’s off.” – Adrianne Margarito

21. “When we sit together, he puts his little hand on my arm. While he’s eating or watching TV, he just sits connected with me. Sometimes he just looks up and pats me. He just checks in on me sometimes – at some level, he knows we are in this together – that it’s me and him against the world.” — Jennifer Thompson

22. “No words, just lots of smiles and cuddles.” — Gloria Payne Bearne

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23. “He’ll walk up right behind me and hug me when I’m cleaning or doing dishes. It’s my favorite.” — Jennie Duncan

24. “Grabbing me for a hug when she intuitively knows I need one.” – Robin Brodsky Curtin

What are some ways your loved one says ‘I love you’ without using words? Let us know in the comments below. 

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This Up-and-Coming Comedian Delivers His Punchlines Without Saying a Word

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Screen Shot 2015-02-12 at 1.54.34 PM This uproarious stand-up comedian from the U.K. doesn’t even need to open his mouth to get an audience to double over laughing.

Lee Ridley, 34, who lives in Newcastle, U.K., was diagnosed with cerebral palsy when he was six months old, and his mouth and tongue muscles are too weak for him to speak, The Global Post reported. But this hasn’t held him back in the comedy world: Ridley, who uses a voice app on an iPad mini to deliver his jokes, booked his first gig early in 2012 and has gone on to perform in comedy festivals throughout the U.K. In December 2014, he received the BBC New Comedy Award, which includes a development deal with the network to produce his own radio pilot, GiggleBeats reported.

Ridley, aka “Lost Voice Guy,” doesn’t shy away from lightheartedly poking fun of his disability.

“Let me test your powers of observation. Raise your hand if you can tell that I have a slight disability,” Ridley, or rather, a mechanical voice from the speakers, says to an audience in the video below. The crowd erupts with laughter, and Ridley grins as he delivers the punchline: “It’s the hair, isn’t it? It’s a dead giveaway, really. Or maybe, it’s the shoes?”

Watch Ridley receive the 2014 BBC New Comedy Award and catch some hilarious footage from his shows in the video below. 

Feature image from Lost Voice Guy’s Facebook page.

To see more of Lost Voice Guy’s sidesplitting performances and get information about tour dates, visit his website.

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How This Woman With Down Syndrome Made Fashion History

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Jamie Brewer, an actress with Down syndrome best known for her roles on the television show “American Horror Story,” is trailblazing the way for women with disabilities in fashion.

Today, Brewer made history as the first ever person with Down syndrome to walk the catwalk at New York Fashion Week, New York Daily News reported.

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Photo credit: Marc Hall

Brewer modeled fashion designer Carrie Hammer’s “Role Models Not Runway Models” campaign, which aims to highlight the beauty in difference.

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Carrie Hammer, photo credit: Marc Hall

“These are some of the most beautiful and powerful women in the world,” Hammer told The Mighty in an email. “Women and young women alike should be looking up to and trying to emulate role models not runway models.”

Hammer’s past shows have also featured an amputee and a woman using a wheelchair, according to Today.

Young girls and even young women [see me] and say, ‘Hey, if she can do it so can I,’” Brewer told the outlet. “It’s a true inspiration being a role model for any young women to [encourage them] in being who they are and showing who they are.”

“It was overwhelmingly positive!” Hammer told The Mighty shortly after completing the show Thursday. “I could hear all the cheers and screams from backstage.”

Check out Brewer strutting her stuff at New York Fashion Week in the video below: 

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To the Woman in the Grocery Store Who Noticed What Was Special About My Baby

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I was ready for a big outing. It had been six weeks since you were born, and I was finally cleared for driving. Heading to the grocery store seemed like just the ticket. I planned our excursion for a time when I thought there wouldn’t be many people. I didn’t think I was ready for people to see you. I was learning a lot, but you and your diagnosis were so new. I was proud of you and so excited you were finally here, but the news of your diagnosis surprised and terrified me.

I don’t think I’d taken ten steps into the produce department when I saw a small, kind-looking white-haired woman making what could only be called a beeline for us — or more precisely, you. I steeled myself. What would she do when she saw you? Would she be horrified? Would she look at me with pity? No matter what, I knew I’d be crying in the next two minutes.

The time it took her to reach us was probably all of 20 seconds, and the whole time I was thinking, “The doctor told me I was going to have to learn to be an advocate for you. So, here we go.” When she arrived cart-side, my hands were sweaty and my heart was thumping. I think the physiological term is “fight or flight response.”

She gave me the quick obligatory smile before turning her gaze to you, the true object of her desire. She looked for several seconds. Then, she raised her head and looked right into my eyes. Her face showed everything she was thinking. This was it. And with blue eyes shining, she said, “You have a beautiful baby!” Our Lady of the Produce had beaten my estimate; I was crying in under two minutes. I looked from her beaming face down at you, knowing beyond a doubt, that she was right.

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The Mighty is asking its readers the following: Describe the moment a stranger — or someone you don’t know very well — showed you or a loved one incredible love. No gesture is too small! If you’d like to participate, please send a blog post to [email protected] Please  include a photo for the piece, a photo of yourself and 1-2 sentence bio.

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This Teen With Down Syndrome Just Received a Late (but Amazing) Christmas Card

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It started with a mother’s Christmas wish.

Last December, Mary Ann Pyron asked her Facebook friends to send her then 18-year-old son, Blake, Christmas cards. Blake, who has Down syndrome, loves receiving mail. When his mother’s request made local news, he found his mailbox in Sanger, Texas, quickly filling up. Pyron expected maybe 20 cards — more than 300 came in from all over the country.

One letter stuck out.

Sergeant Kenneth Osborn, deployed in Afghanistan, heard about Pyron’s Christmas wish and sent the now 19-year-old a letter, along with a hat and flag (that he flew for Blake) from his base and two scarves from a local Afghan family. Blake received the letter on Monday, Feb. 9.

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(Photo via Mary Ann Pyron)

The letter reads:

Dear Blake,

Hey buddy. I saw you on TV and wanted to send you some stuff from Afghanistan. First and foremost, inside is a flag that I personally flew on two operations out here for you. Those operations were conducted on Christmas Day and New Years, and I’m happy to say that all of our men made it back safely. With this flag is a certificate signed by me and a sticker representing our unit, Hammer Company Task Force ODIN. Next is a hat from the base that I operate on out here. Lastly, I have included two handmade scarves from a local Afghan family out here. The scarves are purple and yellow, the colors I saw you wear on TV. I just wanna say that I think it is really awesome that you are the captain of your team. I was in charge of our operations in which your flag was flown. So I got to be just like you, a captain of a team. Well I gotta go buddy, I want you to know you are my hero!

Your friend,

SGT Kenneth Osborn

“Blake was thrilled,” Pyron told The Mighty in an email. “He loves our troops.”

The Pyrons later connected with Osborn on Facebook.

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(Photo via Mary Ann Pyron)
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Sgt. Kenneth Osborn (Photo via Mary Ann Pyron)
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Blake with his letter, hat and flag. (Photo via Mary Ann Pyron)

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Why I Waited 22 Years to Write About My Deformity

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This has never been a story I wanted to elaborate on. Sure, it’s something I’ll answer questions about, something I’ll share with people. I mean, it’s a major part of my life, so I can’t just ignore it. Not like I used to think I could. And throughout my journey, people have been asking me to write. Write about my experiences, what I’ve been through, what I still need to go through. Honestly, if I were to write down all the intricate details, I’d be writing an entire book. Maybe eventually I will.

But if I were to have written this in the past like people have suggested I do, it would just simply be incomplete. Because the journey was incomplete. I know that right now I’m not 100 percent finished, but I do know I’m at the 95-percent mark. And now? Now I think I can finally do it.

For those who don’t know, I was born with a cleft lip and palate. It’s when your lip and palate (roof of your mouth) don’t form together completely before you’re born. So I had this split that ran from the inside of the left side of my nose, through my lip and through the roof of my mouth. Of course fixing this issue requires many, many surgeries — surgeries some people have told me will make me look “normal.”

To me, the word “normal” has always been one of those achievements put up on a pedestal that I could never hope to reach. Because I knew that no matter how many surgeries I’d have, no matter how many speech therapy sessions I’d go to, no matter how many times I went in and out of Children’s Hospital, I’d still be cleft. I’d still look cleft. I’d still sound cleft. It’d just always be there.

In my mind, it was a curse.

Of course, growing up with a deformity isn’t easy. I could go into all the conversations and all the jokes and moments where people made fun of me for it, but that won’t do me or you any good. Kids can be mean. People can be rude. That’s just the way it is. And I’ve accepted that. Not everyone is but there will always be someone who just doesn’t understand when you shouldn’t say certain things to certain people. I can’t change that too much, either. I can’t just pull those people aside and lecture them about decency. Nor do I really want to.

Through my years of learning what it means to have a cleft, I’ve realized one crucial thing: I have to change my mind about myself. Because in my mind, I’m deformed. In my mind, I’m not “normal,” I will never be “normal.” So with that, I’ve automatically placed myself in this lower level of humanity below people who are “normal.” There are days even now that I still wish it’d all just go away. A lot of days, I don’t want to do it anymore.

People always ask me to tell the world what it’s like to have a cleft, and I want to give this great, big heartwarming story about how everything is an eye-opening experience and just so incredible. But that’d be a lie. At least it would be for me. Because nothing about it was really all that awesome.

That’s why I could never write this then. That’s why I knew I had to wait. Because now I see it. Now that everything is all over (well, mostly), I get it. Having a cleft can be a lot of terrible things, it really can. But it can also be one of the most life-changing things you can go through. And it’s something rare – something not everyone can go through.

I’ve had the opportunity to see what a real, huge outward transformation looks like. Every surgery brought a change to something on my face, whether it be small like putting in a fake tooth to something massive like pulling my entire jaw forward and getting rid of my awkward underbite. And with that, I’ve had the opportunity to change my mind.

I don’t see “normal” as this unreachable dream that can’t ever happen for me. For me, having a cleft is normal. Normal is something that changes from person to person. Just like beauty. I’ve learned through this entire process, through all the comments and self-loathing, that beauty isn’t something you can compare. It’s something that differs from person to person. There isn’t a scale or a rubric for it. The same goes for this whole “normal” thing.

That’s something I wish I’d learned earlier in my life. Something I wish I’d grasped onto. Because I know that I’ve been told this before, but sometimes it takes reaching the end of what seems like a never-ending journey for it to make sense.

I know I’m still going to have days when I hate my cleft. There are going to be days when I wish I could draw a line down my face and have both sides look the same. But that’s never gonna happen. That’s just not me. And I’m not going to be sitting here day after day in tears that I’m not good enough just because I’m not exactly like everyone else is.

There’s beauty in seeing beyond what people think is standard. There’s beauty in looking at all the things in life you’ve been through — whether they be good or bad — and at the end of the day realizing if you hadn’t gone through those things, you’d still be the same person you were years ago.

If I’d written this even a year ago when someone had told me to, this would have been an entire story about how having a cleft absolutely sucks. Now? Yeah, OK, it can be annoying and terrible at times, but in the long run, if I hadn’t gone through any of this at all, I don’t think I’d see life the same way. I can’t say how I’d be different because that’s not my life to tell. But I can say that now that this is done, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

My outward transformation has been remarkable. But it’s nothing compared to what happened on the inside.

This post originally appeared on The Cleft Diaries.

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