PERCY, SIGN LANGUAGE AND JESUS

                       John 14:14 If you ask me anything in my name, I will do it.

                                           

                                  Pelican drawn by Percy while I worked with him.

Back in the 70’s, I was an art therapist at a mental hospital, dealing with anything from depression, schizophrenia, alcohol and drug abuse.  Friends used to ask, when discovering I worked at a mental hospital, if I was a patient or a therapist.  I usually replied, quoting a co-worker, “You just watch which one goes home at the end of the day, then you’ll know who’s crazy and who isn’t.”  It was a very interesting part of my life.  I have many stories of life on the edge of sanity.  This however is not one of them.

Just north of Forest Hill, in Rapides Parish in central Louisiana was Camp Claiborne, a former U.S. Army military camp during World War II.  Not much is left of this camp except a few abandoned buildings, some sealed off with fencing. Many streets still exist as well as parking lots and footings of original buildings.  Today, there is a 26-mile, hiking, walking and biking trail.  There is evidence that unexploded ordnance on the property still exist.  This area is now owned by the United States Forestry Service.

 The late England Air Force base, in Alexandria, was actively using this remote area as a practice bombing area for the fighter planes in the 1970’s.   I used to drive in that area hoping to watch the planes drop their explosives.  All I ever experienced was the noise as they exploded, and it was loud. 

                                  

Percy lived in this area.  Alone.  Percy was deaf.   I really have extraordinarily little information as to why he lived alone but I do know that he did not know any sign language and used only his primitive signs to communicate.  Percy was scared from the noise which he felt and saw as the planes flew overhead. He, apparently, was also frightening people around the area that didn’t know him and thought he was mentally ill with his weird hand gestures.  Percy was brought to Central Louisiana Mental Hospital and placed in my care.

 I think he was sent by God.

Frances and I were taking sign language classes at Emmanuel Baptist since the church had a deaf ministry.  We learned to meet and communicate with deaf friends all around the area.  Frances excelled in learning this language, possibly due to her French heritage and using her hands whenever she spoke. She eventually became an interpreter for our church services.   I got by.

 I now had a deaf man in my art therapy class.  Percy needed to learn sign language.    I managed to understand his home-made signs and taught him some of what I knew.  I taught him the alphabet.  I needed more help so I decided to call on our friends, deaf ministers from the Assembly of God, to see if they could visit and try to understand Percy’s signs.  They were given permission to visit my therapy class.  Together the three of us worked on communicating with Percy.  It was obvious that his signs were only home-made and not American sign language.  So, Percy and I had sign language lessons.  The two ladies came twice a week and we began with basic signs.  I worked with him daily.   I felt as if our daily lessons were like Ann Sullivan as she taught Helen Keller to communicate.  Frustrating at times, but extremely rewarding at others.  He mimicked the signs, but I didn’t see that look on his face as the light that comes on when understanding.  I showed him the sign for airplane.  He panicked and began crying and holding his ears. It was obvious that he had been traumatized by the airplanes practice bombing the area.

Meanwhile, the head of my department was trying to arrange a place that would take Percy since after evaluation it was determined he was not mentally ill.  Our hospital was not equipped.  Percy needed a place to teach him not only to communicate, but some basic human skills, like cooking, and cleanliness, so he could learn to function and eventually live in a half-way house.   A place in St. Louis, Missouri was thrilled to work with him.  He would have to fly there.  I reminded my boss that Percy was terrified of planes.  Every time we used the sign of airplane, Percy would panic.  He’d immediately run and hide under a table, making his handmade signs, covering his ears, crying, and shaking like a leaf.

St. Louis could not take him for at least a month.  My job was to continue the sign language lessons and convince him to fly.  I had a friend who had a small plane that was willing to fly Percy around the area, if we could convince him to get on the plane.  This was an extremely hard task.  I eventually got him to the point where he did not run and hide and cry when seeing a picture of an airplane or see my sign for plane.   Percy, meanwhile, had mastered concrete thoughts and we needed him to understand abstract concepts.  I worked with him by trying to get him to understand where he would be going.

The ministers from the Assemblies were concerned about his salvation.  They began trying to teach him about Jesus. (I realize that this being a state institution, I was not supposed to cross this barrier, but I did). They were met with a blank expression.  He already knew the signs for “love” and “me”, but the word “Jesus” was met with confusion. We continued daily signing “Jesus loves me”, pointing to a picture of Jesus on the cross.  He would mimic the signs and smile and nod as if he understood which is a common thing for deaf people to do.  I was not really convinced he understood.

                                                      

The day arrived for us to fly in my friend’s plane.  We drove to the airport.  I was to be the one to fly with him and the pilot.  We looked at the plane.  Touched the outside, peeked at the interior. Looked at the propeller. I signed that he and I would get on the plane and fly around. He shook his head.  I asked him to get inside.  He balked at first but after I boarded, he followed. We sat a while.  The engine started.  He grabbed me.  We took off.  As we became airborne, Percy looked at me, made the sign of the cross and signed “Jesus loves me” while pointing up. He then placed his hands in a prayerful position and closed his eyes. He understood the abstract concept. He knew about Jesus.  Maybe he learned it somewhere in his past for we never learned about his history, or maybe we taught him.  Either way, I beamed.  Percy looked out the window after that and did not appear afraid.  

A month later I took Percy to the airport and helped him board a plane to St. Louis.  He smiled and hugged me, and we said our goodbyes.  I did learn that he became a star pupil and made great progress.  I thank God for this angel that crossed my path and became part of my story.

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