Wordlessness

My wife knows me better than anyone else on the planet. Every day of my life, it seems, I am subtly deceiving everyone I come into contact with. They have no idea who I am. She does. She has seen my dust and my dross and has also seen that which will survive the fire of His judgment and be presented back to Him as the fruit of His labor in me. Every once and a while when I am quiet she will ask me "What are you thinking?" As well as she knows me she needs me to let her into my wordlessness to better her understanding. That's no deficiency for she pursues knowledge about me out of her love for me.

Yet there is One who knows my frame without questions or words. When I close my eyes to pray or meditate He has already considered it, formed it, and calls to my consciousness His guidance of it. My longing (that I can't even articulate at times) to be fully known and fully understood will be fulfilled when I am allowed to perceive this deep and perfect contemplation. What bliss, marvel, and awe as I stand before Him and, wordlessly, He scrutinizes me almost nodding with an understanding too deep to comprehend. Yet still He will burst with great love for this frail though regenerate frame. He will continue to embrace this dust that I am after His inquiry and, again, will pronounce me His beloved son.

She knows me, yes, but her knowledge is but a breath. Limited by her mortality and my report born of my understanding she seeks me; and thank God she still seeks me. Yet, He'll be a servant to none of that.