Attending church is one of the highlights of my week. This past Sunday my husband and I had the honor of sitting behind a lovely elderly couple several decades our senior. During the time of worship, they stood side by side; he in a brown corderoy jacket and she in a lovely beige sweater. Time had aged them, yet, even their numerous wrinkles seemed kind. As they lifted their voices in sweet worship, his left hand made its way to her right hand resting on the chair in front of them. In that moment, though the music resonated loudly throughout the sanctuary, a heavenly silence overtook me as I took in this precious scene. Their hands touched and they worshiped, and my heart warmed as if sitting in front of a roaring fire on a cold night. “What struggles had they faced in their time as man and wife?”, I wondered. “And what joyful times had they celebrated day after day?” After all these years, they were so in love and truly committed to their God. Their worship was genuine and their love captivating. A light scent permeated the air, but it wasn’t perfume. Its origin was heavenly.
As I stood alongside my own husband and worshipped, I could not help but hope and offer a sincere heart prayer, that we too, would be so fully committed to the Lord and to our relationship when our hairs had softened to to a beautiful gray and our hands wrinkled likewise.