Language of the heart is the same.
Early February of 2026, I was blessed with the opportunity to go to Italy. Before I left, I was hesitant to take my camera across the ocean. I had my 9 month old with me, and it felt like I would be responsible for too much while trying to enjoy my vacation. If you're a parent, you know what I mean.
I decided to bring it with me, and I am so glad I did.
While traveling through the city, we walked through a park similar to what we know in America as Central Park. A sweet old man was sitting on a park bench watching the birds. In a world filled with technology, business, and instant gratification, there was such peace in watching him admire one of God’s creations.
I approached him with my camera. At that point, I knew why God had pushed me to bring it with me. I walked up and asked, “May I take your picture?” He pointed to himself, and I nodded yes. He began speaking Italian, and little American me, unable to understand, tried communicating with my hands and gestures the best I could. He kept nodding yes, so I took the picture.
He looked surprised.
I showed him the photo. In that moment, he pointed to himself and asked me a question in Italian, his head tilted down and his eyes looking up at me. We finally understood each other... he thought I wanted him to take my picture.
I pointed to him and said, “You are beautiful,” and signed “beautiful,” something I had learned in a high school sign language class. His eyes softened, and he posed for a picture he was now ready for.
That is the picture above.
Although we did not speak the same language verbally, we spoke the same language of the heart. His kindness, his beautiful eyes, and the way he looked up as I waved goodbye are moments I will carry with me for the rest of my life.
