She: At first there was the glance. 

He: I saw her in a crowded room, 

She: through the noise and the obstacles 

He: I saw her. 

She: I was suspended in time, 

He: weightless.

She: It was back when we both were skinny, 

He: motionless.

She: He said he was frozen by my beauty. 

He: Or maybe the air conditioning was up too high. 

She: There I was. 

He: And there I was. 

Both: We were both there, 

He: together,

She: and yet we knew not each other.

 He: We were void of name and telephone number.

 She: We were strangers. 

He: I glanced. 

She: And I glanced. 

Both: Oh, what glances! 

She: At first, short glances, but very soon the glances turned into stares. 

He: We stared at each other, and we liked what we saw. 

She: We stared over dinner 

He: at fancy restaurants. 

She: We stared at each other during church 

He: when we should have been staring at the pastor. 

She: He would even stare during football games. 

He: She would even stare during clearance sales. 

She: We ogled. 

He: Funny word, but quite fitting. 

She: Ogle—Webster defines it as “to stare with great desire.” 

He: We were in love! 

She: And our glances turned into stares. 

He: Then we wanted to see more of each other. 

She: We desired each other. 

He: We wanted to stare at each other all the time— 

She: day and night, 

He: in sickness and in health, 

She: till death do us part. 

He: So we stared at the altar. 

She: And we received a license to stare. 

He: Then,

She: very shortly after we received permission to stare 

He: day and night, 

She: night and day, 

He: all the time, 

Both: we saw everything. 

She: And the stares turned into glares. 

He: Sorry I’m late! We played an extra nine holes. 

She: Glare.

He: Happy birthday, Honey. You’ll love this new power drill I got you!

She: Glare.

He: How about tonight?

 She: I’m too tired . . . 

He: Glare.

She: Then

He: Football.

She: Glare.

He: More football. 

She: Glare.

He: No more football. 

She: Great!

He: But more basketball. 

She: Glare.

He: Then . . . 

She: Another pair of shoes. 

He: Glare.

She: Waiting while I curl my hair.

He: Glare.

She: Facebook binges at bedtime. 

He: Glare!

She: And so the story goes. 

He: And the more we glared, the less we stared. 

She: We never again thought about ogling, but a stare every now and then would be nice.

He: We can raise kids, climb the ladder, go to church.

 She: We can do just about anything without looking at each other. 

He: Don’t we want to see? 

She: I’m his wife. He once glanced my way and said, “Wow!” 

He: I’m her husband. She used to love to look at me; and now it seems that the only time she looks is when she wants something. 

She: Not only does he not look at me, he doesn’t even look at what I do! Ladies, he thinks that clean socks just somehow fly from the laundry hamper into the washer and dryer, and then back into the magic drawer. 

He: She used to look at me with such respect! Now she doesn’t even care about my needs.

She: Making love . . . what a misnomer! It’s turned into a duty. How can I enjoy intimacy with someone who doesn’t even look at me? Deeply.

 He: Before I was married, I used to laugh at the way the King James Version describes sex as “knowing.” Now I understand. How can you make love with someone who doesn’t even know you . . . much less someone who doesn’t look at you? 

She: Is there a cure for blindness? 

He: Is there surgery that can remove emotional cataracts? 

She: It all started with a glance. 

He: Can we find that glance? 

She: Will we look at each other? 

He: Deeply?

Both: Will we? 

He: If anyone is in Christ 

She: he is a new . . . 

He: she is a new . . .

 Both: creation. 

He: God has reconciled us to Himself through the incredible gift of Jesus Christ. 

She: And now God has given us a new ministry. 

He: The ministry of reconciliation.

 She: That look—the fire of the relationship lost because of circumstance, 

He: hurt,

She: fear,

He: anger,

She: and misunderstandings. 

Both: That look can be found through Christ.