How beautiful you are, my darling. How very beautiful! Your eyes are doves. How handsome you are, my love. How delightful! Our bed is verdant. Song of Songs 1:15–16
I was in love. There was absolutely no doubt about it. Kathy Roan was a woman who represented everything I could have ever hoped for. She was beautiful and bright. She was articulate and tender.
There was hardly a waking moment when I wasn’t thinking about her. Whether it was in meetings, researching projects, commuting to work, or lying in bed at night, I longed to see Kathy. To be with her. To talk with her. There was nothing I wouldn’t have done to win her love.
Kathy and I had never discussed our relationship. I had done my best to mask my infatuation with her, and as far as I knew, I had been successful. But I was running out of time. I knew that I had to tell her how I felt.
It was midafternoon, early in the spring, when the opportunity presented itself. At last, I was going to tell her how much I longed to hold her and tell her that I loved her. We were on a field assignment, having been appointed to the same task force. “I know you’re busy, and I’m so sorry to interrupt you,” I boldly said, stopping her in mid-sentence as she chatted with one of our associates. “This is going to sound crazy, but I want you to know that I would be so grateful to have the chance to get to know you. I do not want to be too bold, but would you be willing to see me this weekend?” My words stunned her. We stood there, looking straight into each other’s eyes for a nervous moment. And then, unexpectedly and without warning, the bell rang. Kathy Roan and I, along with all the other Whittier School fourth graders, were running back to the building from the kick soccer field so we wouldn’t be late. Our teacher didn’t like it when recess went too long.
Do you remember your first love? Do you remember the first time you held a girl’s hand—how you “accidentally” let your hand brush against hers? Every nerve ending in your body was inexplicably transported to your fingers. Do you remember collecting the courage to kiss a girl for the first time? Does all of this make your heart race like it does mine?
Because we are men, sometimes we are overwhelmed with the challenge of winning what we don’t have. If you’ll remember, this is how—if you’re married—it was when you first met the girl who was to become your wife.
But now she’s your wife. She wears the ring and has borne you children. She said yes, and she is yours. And the tender words of love you used to speak have been replaced with discussions about schedules, carpools, and the overflowing trash in the kitchen.
Perhaps the brief dialogue we read today needs to remind you that your wife still longs for tender words from her man. She needs the romance of your first embrace, sensitive affection from the one who first tried to win her love.
Do something today that takes you back to those days of grade-school love. Be daring. Lavish her with something she doesn’t expect. You never know when the bell will ring and this golden opportunity will end.
Recess never lasts long enough.