a plastic duck kind of love

on learning the unspoken love languages

We have all heard of the five love languages.
They are quoted on social media, referenced in sermons and TED Talks, studied by lovers young and old. We all hope that those who love us will speak to us in our love language and in turn, we will learn to speak in theirs. Such is the way to love someone: learn their language and speak it to them. It’s a lifelong learning experience. But it’s clear. There are five languages. Understand them and you can Duolingo your way towards loving and being loved.

But friend, did you know there were actually more than five?

I have been learning about the hidden love languages and unlike the five, these are fluid and ever changing. They are just as important, but can be fleeting. They are often nonverbal and can reveal themselves at inopportune times. There’s no book about them, no real expert teacher, and every single person’s is different. But I met an expert on the hidden love languages and he’s been teaching me everything he knows. He also happens to live under my roof and likes to be paid for this knowledge in ice cream sandwiches.

Children speak the hidden love languages better than anyone on the planet, but we all speak them whether we recognize it or not. I just tend to believe that children do it in the most honest, visceral way possible. And I think I can prove it.

Case study number one:
Sam’s most consistent source of comfort is his bevy of stuffed animals (aka his “babies”). They go everywhere with us, have been dropped in the toilet, been lost (and then found) on the side of the road, stolen by the dog, and made long road trips at his side. The babies go where he goes and their presence is coveted. Not too long ago I was dealing with crippling stomach pain. Sam came into the bedroom while I clutched my stomach and asked what was wrong. When I told him I was sick, he spun around on his heel and left. I figured he was off to find a parent who would be willing to play with him. Seconds later, he came back in with one of his babies—his wolf. This particular one has been his favorite since time in memorium. He dropped it off on my arm and said, “Wolfie will help.” And he was right.

Case study number two:
Sam will often feign fear in order to get a “warm hug” from us. This need often comes at inopportune moments (like in the middle of a family meal) but I love that he knows he can always get one. He’ll crawl up in our laps, fork in hand, food halfway chewed, and demand a warm hug. Not a hug, a warm hug. This is language I have used with him before. When he’s been cold or sad or frustrated, I have dropped to one knee and offered him a warm hug. I suppose the only difference between a hug and a warm hug is that a warm hug tends to last longer and envelopes him a bit deeper. Warm hugs come with big feelings. This is something he knows and desires even when his emotions are regulated.

Case study number three:
On Thursdays Sam and I head to a favorite park that has a duck pond. We walk the circumference of the pond, picking up sticks, our voices dropping to whispers as the ducks swim close to us. Sam knows that I would love backyard ducks, but at this point in our life it’s not possible. A week ago I found him digging in his Duplo bin, head down in concentration. Fishing out a small piece from the bottom he yelled “I found him!” He then placed a small Duplo plastic duck in my hand.

“I know you like him mama. Here, put him next to your bed.”
So I did. That duck is the last thing I see every night before turning my lamp off.

the love guru, ice cream sandwich in hand

You could probably make the argument that these acts could still fit into one of the five love language categories, but I think I’d have to argue that love is more expansive, complicated, frustrating, wonderful, and invigorating to be this simply packaged.

One of my favorite novels of all time is C.S. Lewis’ Great Divorce. I won’t give away any spoilers for those who haven’t read it, but in one scene, a recently departed husband meets his long departed wife and he is rapturous at seeing her, asking if she still loves him and if she has missed him. Her answer is simple—she did love him, but she has been in the very midst of love, so the love she had for him pales in comparison. Her answer seems harsh, but it’s actually a very honest and gracious reply. To know this type of love. To stand in the very middle of it. To be fully enveloped by the radiating, everlasting love of the one who made her. It cannot compare to earthly love. It cannot be measured in language. But it can be shared.

This side of eternity we only ever have glimpses of perfect love and I think what we really need is a keen eye and a soft heart to recognize it.

My husband speaks my love languages, but he also speaks them via stocking up in epsom salts so I never run out. He speaks the language of allowing me to verbally process something he’s heard dozens of times. He speaks in writing messages to me on the shower glass that I can only see after the bathroom is warm and steamy. He speaks love in pointing out things that remind him of my mom and that, in turn, remind him of me.

In giving me his favorite stuffed animal, Sam put my comfort before his own security. In asking for a warm hug at random moments, he is telling me he knows that he can always find safety in my arms. And in giving me his plastic duck, he is holding treasured memories we share while showing me that he sees me and knows my heart.

And he knows that my heart is shaped like a small plastic duck.

Always,
Emily

P.S. I love you so I am going to implore you to watch this movie, but more importantly, make its soundtrack your personal background music this summer. Throw in some OG Bob Dylan and you will be straight vibing.