A couple at the next table is out on what is clearly their first date. He holds the chair out for her, their eyes dart nervously and expectantly across each other, and the air is filled with bursts of nervous laughter. She wears a dress that likely hasn't seen the outside of her closet in years. He wears his dress pants, crisp seam freshly ironed, along with his best shirt. After they order their food, I catch whispers and echoes of their conversation, now finding its pace. Several times I notice them, their fingers touching across the table as they find something new to attract them to each other. Just before the waiter comes to take away their plates, he abruptly stops in mid-sentence with a distracted air and remarks as much to himself as his date,
"Dang you sure are pretty." She blushes, coy smile, but the reddening of her cheeks betrays her appreciation of the moment. Soon enough they pay their bill and are on their way. As they go past my table hand-in-hand, I notice that they are in no hurry, fully satisfied to linger in each other's presence.
I hope that they both recognize and appreciate this very unique and special time in their relationship. Soon enough the pretty dress will revert to sweat pants and the sharp outfit will once again become blue jeans and a t-shirt. The dreamy looks across the table at each other will disappear into the more customary, ho-hum looks of the every day. Perhaps his attitude of awe at the beautiful woman at his side will persist. Maybe she will never tire of looking in his eyes, her very paradigm of Prince Charming in the flesh. However, I know that these tingly feelings will subside unless both sides consistently recognize that love is an action verb. Pastor Craig Groeschel has an apt statement,
"If you want want few people have, you have to do what few people are willing to do."
