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,
She: It was back when we both were skinny,
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,
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.
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.
He: Happy birthday, Honey. You’ll love this new power drill I got you!
He: How about tonight?
She: I’m too tired . . .
He: More football.
He: No more football.
He: But more basketball.
He: Then . . .
She: Another pair of shoes.
She: Waiting while I curl my hair.
She: Facebook binges at bedtime.
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?
Both: Will we?
He: If anyone is in Christ
She: he is a new . . .
He: she is a new . . .
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,
She: and misunderstandings.
Both: That look can be found through Christ.