Where is the greater love? Is it in the flush of romance, when the beloved is beautiful and precious, ruddy and strong? When he reaches out for me with passion and burns to the touch?
Or is it when every day is much like the one before, when the heaving landscape has smoothed into a plateau and no adventure promises? Weakness and kindness walk hand in hand in this place, and memory fills the territory anticipation once held.
There is no answer to this. It just is, and I must be content. Otherwise, I will be condemned to ingratitude.
No matter how I feel, God is here. He has laid down this path for me because He loves me. I must walk it because I love Him.
I feel a fresh breeze.
Image: from our family album, taken circa 1979