An Observation

From my earliest days I have been a watcher. I was a very shy child, and was much more comfortable sitting back, gathering information, so that if the need arose for me to join society, I would know just what to do. I did not have a marriage to observe close-up, but I've always been a romantic. For that reason, I've taken special interest in watching what couples do, how couples interact, and from there I could decide what I wanted and didn't want in a relationship.

Older couples, those who have been married for their entire adult lives, are the most interesting to watch. Fortunately, our parish has plenty of older couples. There is one couple, Brad and Liz, and they have been married forever. They're the kind of couple that is so intuitive around one each other that they have grown to even look similar. I don't know either particularly well, but I've been on some committees with Brad. Liz was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. I don't know the prognosis, but I do know that Brad was scared, and together they were scared enough to stop postponing a cruise they've wanted to take. They returned home a couple of weeks ago.

This morning I sat 2 pews behind them. I happened to catch a glimpse of something that looked so personal and meaningful, I was ashamed to be peeking. I love our old, Episcopal hymns. This is probably the legacy of being raised by a minister of music. To me, they are a prayer, a kind of communion. Our second hymn today was "Come Labor On." I was singing away, frustrated at my poor tone on D's all morning, when my eyes rested on Brad and Liz. They were standing arm-in-arm, slightly turned toward one another. Two short, stout people with very good, thick hair. Then Brad looked at Liz, and she at him, and they were singing to each other with the most tender expression on their faces. There they were, these two people who reach for each other without even a conscious thought. They were singing a love song both to God their Savior and each other. In that moment, I imagined all the ugly, mucky things that happen in a marriage: facing illnesses, disagreements over money or children, sorrow in losing loved ones. And yet, somehow they kept a purity of heart that reached me, two rows back. I'm so glad they did.