Thursday, August 11, 2011


Gardens filled with perennial blooms in perfect order provide a feast for my eyes and soul.
Music, all kinds, entertains and thrills my being, to the very core. I tingle with joy, am moved with passion.
Vermeer, van Gogh, Rembrandt, Whistler and so many more leave me enamored.
I can spend hours blissfully flipping through upholstery samples, decorating a myriad of owned and imagined rooms in my mind.
Ballet, jazz, ballroom dancing. Backs arching, feet extending, moving and swaying, making magic with space and rhythm. I love to dance, I love to see dance.
Travel to foreign places, the study of history, culture and people fascinate and tantalize my imagination.

But all this pales. Really pales. The passing years prove it is so. For these wonderful things show themselves to be passing, holding my attention less and less. One thing alone, singularly, means more and more, ceaselessly, with growing intensity. Amazingly.

There is One who rivets my devotion. At the end of the day, or when morning has dawned, throughout the hours of routine or adventure, I find myself remembering Him, thinking of Him, wanting to please Him, and loving Him more and more.

This is a love unending. This is Love itself.


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