I grew up in the church pew. 2nd row, piano side.
I remember the day my feet touched the floor. It was monumentous.
I began my life with my husband in that same pew. He held my
hands in his, asked me to be his wife & slipped a precious band of gold on
my finger.
I should have known where I’d end up in life right?
My whole life is strung together by precious moments in the
pew…
My hand looped through my husband’s. My head on his shoulder
as we read scripture together. Our heads bowed together in prayer.
A flurry of activity. Two little boys, heads ducked over coloring
books & pencils & ‘Church approved’ reading materials. Their bodies
tucked close to mine.
First communion cups taken by eager fingers. Dancing eyes.
Simple prayers prayed & descriptions of the elements parroted back to me.
Small voices begging for backrubs & “Please Mumma, play
hangman with me. It’s the Bible version.”
Sweet songs sung by a spunky little girl. I can’t help but reach
out to stroke her soft dark hair. She puts her tiny hand in mine & smiles
toothlessly up at me.
A passionate man who comes into his own. Speaking with power
& authority. Loving with compassion & authenticity.
I am breathless. He is mine. Since long ago. 2nd
row, piano side.
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