Over and again I played the notes to a song no one would hear. My eyes grew watery with passion, wanting to play my heart for the Lord. My audience of One. He alone could draw me out into the open to be who I knew I was. He moved my fingers in worship. Words of love fell from my lips into the quietness of the room where I sat before Him.
I lay the guitar down and picked up my pen. More words of love flowed onto private pages meant for His eyes alone. He enjoyed my love letters and I was completed whenever I wrote them. The depths of my heart could finally be shared. I knew who the author really was. I merely wrote the words put within my heart by the One who loved me. He alone taught me my language of love.