We walked under that waxing gibbous moon and it almost felt like it used to—before the gray came and robbed away the joy, before the creeping spread of worry and fear made little room for tenderness. He didn’t touch my hand and I didn’t reach for his, but the snow hadn’t come yet and the air smelled like the earthiness of spring and the stars were bright above. The old hunter watched over us and the Big Dipper stood upright on the tip of its handle.
Sometimes love feels like an iron man contest; we push through one long grueling task to another, using all our strength, all our agility, all our skill just to finish. And these are tiring seasons, but a walk together under the stars can bring back spring in the midst of winter. So on the ides of March we crossed the highway and stepped outside together, outside the usual routine—crossed over an invisible line and let our hearts join together again. And that word? “Ides”? It comes from the Latin word that means “to divide”. But I was thinking of the way two hearts can find rest in each other, the way two hearts collide when all the things of life try to divide.
So I closed my eyes and imagined that tipping cup of the dipper was pouring out better days, pouring out stardust and light and all things of hope.
Then I reached out and took his hand in mine.
Every Monday I’ll be sharing one of my Playdates with God. I would love to hear about yours. It can be anything: outside, quiet time. Maybe it’s solitary. Maybe it’s loud and crowded. Just find Him. Be with Him. Grab my button at the bottom of the page and join us:
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