He always knows

Sometimes I just wish I could unzip my heart and dump its contents into my computer or into my journal. Because regardless of how many thousands of words there are in the English language, I occasionally feel that there are none that I can string together that sufficiently explain how I feel. Maybe some feelings just can't be translated into words, but it's frustrating because it's those feelings—the ones that fill my heart to bursting with peace and joy and understanding, the ones that make me believe that maybe I can figure out this strange thing called life—that I want to shout from the mountaintops. 

But how do I explain the way it feels when, after weeks of halfhearted prayer, I kneel down to sincerely open my heart to God, begging for forgiveness for not putting Him first and imploring Him to help me find peace of mind about my future? 

How do I explain the overwhelming feelings of love and understanding when He provides me with three hours' worth of personalized guidance the very next day?

How do I explain the pure joy that fills my heart while I laugh hysterically alone in my room after reading an email from a friend who is thousands of miles away?

How do I explain the pride and the love I have for my younger brothers, who are growing up to be such kindhearted, talented, and upstanding young men?

How do I explain the deeply rooted feelings of gratitude for the multitude of blessings I have in my life, especially when many of those are undeserved?

How do I explain those quiet moments of contentment that occur late at night in the dim lighting of my bedroom after reading the scriptures and my patriarchal blessing?

How do I explain the wave of spirit that rushes over me after weeks of stressing about what to do with my life post-graduation and says yes, be true to your heart; follow your dreams.

How do I explain the wonder and awe I feel watching a small child learn something new or embrace a total stranger with overwhelming love?

I can't. I can't explain any of that in a way that does it even a semblance of justice.

The only thing I can conclude from all these unanswered questions is that there are life experiences too beautiful and too precious to be able to fully express using written language. Luckily there is the language of the spirit—a language that doesn't always need letters or words or sentences. This language pierces hearts across time and space and speaks using joy and love and peace. It speaks to the heart and the mind simultaneously and allows my whole being to be filled with warmth. 

And I'm grateful that even when I haven't the words to express the deepest thoughts of my heart, my Father in Heaven still knows what I mean. He knows of the thoughts and the feelings that I try so desperately to transmit to Him with my faltering tongue and hesitant words. He knows despite my weakness and my failings and my pride. Even when I can't speak through my tears or can't find a single word worthy of His ear, He knows.

He always knows.