What gives us the words we speak, write, hear and read? What voices whisper in the heat of a summer’s day… and in the silence of a winter’s night? Ones that softly speak of the sweetness of a kernel of corn… or of the noise in a crowded city park. Those that murmur on a scenic country road… or a mundane interstate highway.
These voices do not need to shout to be heard, because words are not spoken. Instead pictures are placed before us in full view with texture, smell, taste, and sound that create unknown vocabularies in our head. They create quiet dialogs we have with ourselves that do more to haunt us than any book or speaker could hope to insight with their linguistic prowess.
Perhaps you heard the unuttered murmurs from a picture in this morning’s paper while sipping your first cup of coffee. Do you remember the quiet sounds in your head as you walked passed the homeless man huddled against a storefront? Maybe the voices gently spoke as you noticed a stranger diligently changing a flat tire on the side of the road. Oh, you heard it again after you saw a missing child’s photo in yesterdays mail and threw it away just before dinner. I know… I’ve seen them all too.
Who is speaking to us in these hushed tones? What wordless whispers are conjured up that touch the deep places in our spirit, soul and mind? They may be God’s Spirit touching us, the conscience He gave. Then again, the thing that may impact us the most is something equally intangible, but no less real.
You see, it’s not the well-defined words that chill our hearts, that cause beads of persperation to trickle down our back or that make us smile from ear-to-ear, but our feelings, those silent voices that form innumerable words from what we experience.
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