(Fesit- So Sorry)
I recently stumbled up a blog that I think is my favorite so far. I don’t even know this person, but she warms me from the core out.
While looking for pictures for my dorm on google, I typed in “old romance” to see what I would get. After sifting through LOTS of wrinkly kisses, there it was. An old sepia toned portrait. Sitting in a chair, his body turned away from the camera, is a sophisticated man: overcoat, pocket watch, slicked hair. But, contrary to expected disposition, his head is thrown back, blanketed with a warm smile. His arms are around a sweet woman in her slip, with her curls down. She is on his lap in a nervous half sit half stand, lookig timidly at the picture, as he looks at her. They were beautiful. But, the link the picture took me to was even more so.
There I found a blog titled “Dear husband, love wife.” In it I found the thoughts of a woman who was engaged and to be married soon. Her posts were all for him, (for some reason they are apart from each other) and I fell in love with them.
With eight days left, she listed eight sweet things he did for her while dating : standing in snow with hot chocolate until she got off work, fixing her car. She has planned ways for them not to become the boring student married couple, like playing Ding Dong Ditch on their neighbors, but leaving treats at the door. Or building forts in the house.
He has requested she call him Fire Rabbit, after the killer rabbit in Monty Python.
She loves that he loves the gospel.
How awesome is love?
With tabloid covers of women in tears mid strut, or statistics about 50% ending in divorce, capturing real love is like diving into a swimming pool on a hot day. I love finding it in people I don’t know. There is nothing more refreshing. And nothing more spiritual.
I am so grateful for the good men I know, and the good man I have.
I cannot wait to help the good men and women who have forgotten their love.
A friend of mine once told me that his mother loves to cook. She cooks huge dinners that anyone is invited to every Sunday. She says she will not drag you to dinner, but cook a feast so inviting that those looking in the window will knock on the door. If it is not clear, her food is like her faith. I hope that my marriage will one day be the same. A feast I can share, for anyone to eat, to learn.
If this link doesn’t work, sorry. I’m not the best at this stuff, but it is the picture I found.