passover season.

i had a urge to write. i had a vision of it being beautiful with words flowing out of my fingers. almost a romantic setting with my Jesus. my heart pouring out and Jesus soaking it up and adding His soft caring words. only a few at a time; but packed with great meaning. i have a hard time hearing my God. i long to hear and know. to have faith in knowing it really was my God talking to me. like a father so gently to his little daughter. i have baggage blocking the route?
if i could only hear the words He so wishes to speak to me i would be able to over come and tackle anything. maybe too much hope in that keeps my Father silent? maybe a season of silent is in order. i close my eyes and can imagine Jesus sitting behind me, slightly to the right side with His hands in His lap and his legs crossed at His ankles. His head tilted softly and His eyes filled with a deep love and compassion only a parent knows for their child. He's sitting with me and longs to hold me. but is it not time yet. like glass taken from the fire. i must be shaped first then set in a safe place to cool. must i pour out onto His feet? my heart will not let the words escape; and yet He just sits waiting for me to break.