Field of Dreams
Some years ago I gave her a rose for Valentine’s. Being the romantic she was, she hung it to dry so that the keepsake would last longer than the few days flowers afford. An unfortunate gust of wind blew through her 22nd storey apartment and the rose was swept out of the window and unto the speeding cars that traversed the highway below.
I still tease her about the incident and she always responds with an apologetic smile that still lights up my heart.
So my dearest, thank you handling my heart with hands much more careful and tender than those. I pray that our lives together be like a field where flowers bloom after every rainfall; every blossom holding within itself a testimony of God’s grace, and our lives dewdrops reflecting His radiance.