Holding Hands

My wife and I embarrass our children terribly. Yes, we are what every child dreads; we are hand-holders. Whether in church, walking down the street or sitting side by side on the couch, Linda and I are permanently-connected at the wrist. We’ve always been this way. In high school, our friends were always teasing us for “public displays of affection.” They wondered when we were going to grow out of that childishness. Ha! We have been incorrigible romantics for 36 years. We are beyond hope.

And it’s not just hand-holding. Linda and I started a conversation on our first date that has never stopped. We agree, we disagree, we analyze and we collaborate. We tease, we fight, we pout and we make up. I correct her grammar and she corrects my rudeness. A thought that begins in one mind is likely to be first voiced by the other.

The first sacrament God created is the sacrament of matrimony. He said, “It is not good for man to be alone,” and he was right. I could probably survive on my own, but it would only be half of me. Who would correct me when I was wrong? Who would back me up when I was right? Who would be the one person I could talk to about things that are nobody’s business? God knew what He was doing when he created man and woman. Jesus knew perfectly well why, “What God has joined, no man should separate.”

One of the greatest sorrows in the world today is that marriage has become disposable. It is tragic that so many good people lose the joy with which they started their relationships. Too often, what should have been a lifetime fusion of two souls turns into two angry and lonely people, and millions of frightened, confused, and wounded children.

I don’t have the answer to this. Clearly, no one on earth has it. Divorce is not new; Moses talks about it in Deuteronomy. Men and women have been messing up God’s plan for thousands of years. I’m not here to point fingers at someone else’s life. Heaven knows there are plenty of other flaws in my own. Still, divorce makes me sad.

Gentlemen, hold your wive’s hands. Your kids will thank you…some day.


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