The man said, This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called ‘woman,’ for she was taken out of man. Genesis 2:23 Men have deteriorated. From the first poetic words in the Garden spoken by the first man to where many today simply resort to groans and grunts. Some experts tell us that women generally have the capacity for about fifty thousand words a day whereas men have half of that. And men generally empty their word baskets at work so when they get home they resort to one-word answers or grunts with their wife and children. I believe that in Christ and with some encouragement men can still rediscover mans first language in the Garden. If we will take the time. And put forth the effort. As rough as it may sound it will be music to our wifes ears. There have been several men in my life, men who have no idea who I am, but men I have heard preach, or men I have read who challenged me to put my thoughts and feelings into words and give them to Kim. For this years Mothers Day I was trying to think of something personal and special to give to Kim. Someone suggested I give her something I had written. Our daughter-in-law Cami arranged for me and framed a poem, if you can call it that, that I had written in 2008. It was late October and we had just participated in an exhilarating time with church planters in southern Philippines. We were told to get out of there before the end of Ramadan because of the threat of violence. Several of us went to a beach resort in beautiful Bohol and spent three days there. I could not enjoy the beauty of that place because I was missing Kim. So I put my thoughts and feelings into words: KIMMA Gentle clouds sprouting from the horizon, fishing boats swaying to the rhythm of the waves. The setting sun bathing everything a muted, but beautiful yellow. Bare foot prints on soft, white sand, suddenly erased by shy waves lapping the shore. Lovers play in waist-deep water, laughing, splashing, touching, not speaking, yet profoundly connecting. So much beauty, so much life, and so much love. Yet deep loneliness is my companion. For no amount of beauty, and life, and love, can fill the cavern of my soul-- that longs for my lone beauty, my lone life, and my lone love. Your smile permeates every thought, your sweet scent caresses me. Your voice I long to hear, your touch I crave. The hours and minutes tick torturously slow, ‘till I see my love one again. To gaze, to hold, to gently kiss, to speak again the language of lovers— that lovers alone speak without words, only with a touch, a smile, a closeness. Then I can stand in the darkest of forests, or in the loneliest of deserts, Yet exuberant life and untempered joy, shall reign. For I will once again be with you. When I handed it to Kim for Mothers Day, she asked with a satisfied smile me in a barely audible voice, Read it to me. Today would have been our thirty-fourth wedding anniversary. I cannot express to Kim anymore my thoughts and feelings. But many of you men still can. And should. Turn off the TV and your electronic gadgets. We can do better than groan and grunt. Sweat through the process. It will be a sweet aroma and beautiful music to your wife.
Posted on: Sun, 06 Jul 2014 11:28:43 +0000