Love

The smell of freshly-made bread fills the house, along with that thick quiet that settles over rooms at night. My brother Curtis has made rolls.

The gentle voices of my Mom and Heather murmur in the living room like water trickling over pebbles. The day dies a quiet death.

I spent my morning outdoors. First, I went walking with my older sister, Heather. She's doing more walking as a kind of therapy for her hips. We had a lovely chat, and the weather was simply gorgeous.

Then I went indoors and painted a little project I'm working on while I also taught a nutrition class to my three youngest siblings. I hadn't helped Mom with teaching in awhile, and this morning was a fun change.

Then I spent the rest of the morning in the garden. Sunlight poured down on my neck, but the air was crisp and cool. The dirt was black and rich, like brownies. We're ready to plant tomatoes, corn, beans, and squash before the week is over. Yeah!

This afternoon was full of errands and computer work (check out my new Amazon bookstore!!!!!!).

Now the house is quiet, and I'm sitting here thinking about the Song of Solomon. Have you read that book lately?

Read it as a love letter. A personal love letter to you. This is Christ speaking to His chosen one; His church.

The language is so descriptive. The feelings are so passionate. The bride is not so eloquent at first, but the groom is enraptured by His dear one. He loves her every feature. He loves everything about her.

The bride loves Him too, but she takes His love for granted.

Until the day He disappears. Listen:

(Chapter 5)
2. I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.
3(Then she says:) I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?
4 My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my bowels were moved for him. (Oh what language this is!)
5 I rose up to open to my beloved; and my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh, upon the handles of the lock.
6 I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.

She resisted His spirit calling to her, and now she must go find Him. The people of the city ask whom she is seeking, and then how her descriptions flow!

(Also from chapter 5)
10My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand.
11 His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are bushy, and black as a raven.
12 His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set.
13 His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers: his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh.
14 His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl: his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires.
15 His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold: his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.
16 His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.

"This is my friend." Don't you love that? Our friend. He is altogether lovely.

Theology is nice. Step-by-step documentation of Biblical truths is nice. Fancy words and head knowledge is all very well and good.

But being in love is something that cannot be put in a test tube. One cannot explain it. One just knows it.

That's why I like the book of Song of Solomon. If I am down and feeling alone, I read it. (Or should read it!) Then I start to weep, when I see this passionate affection and love my Saviour has for me. He really feels this way toward me. Even though I don't deserve it. What I deserve is not part of the equation - He loves me anyway. What a marvelous thing!

Ahh...Curtis has brought me a roll, fresh from the oven, with butter on top. What a kind thing love is.