I am tempted to stop colouring my hair, to let go of my red hair at last, admit defeat and welcome with open arms the grey that is gaining ground on my coarse mane. I haven’t coloured my hair since the Ronald McDonald Hair Disaster of October, my temples are white as snow. Two nights ago, we lay in bed, your hands were in my hair and I just don’t know if I have the guts to be the woman there underneath the colour, even now.

You got glasses this fall, my darling, and when you put them on, you look like such a grown-up to me. I know that to the rest of the world we’re grown ups – tinies, mortgage, mini-vans, careers, all so convincing. You had on your work clothes, those dress pants and a tie, we were talking of a Christmas bonus and dance recitals and suddenly it feels like the earth is spinning a bit too fast. Aren’t we 19 still somewhere? How many Christmases is this for us? I wonder aloud, and without missing a beat, you say 13, babe, do you want a cuppa tea?

We’re on the couch tonight, my luv, the night of Christmas, quiet and resting at last. You’re reading Miroslav Volf, I teasingly call him Your Boyfriend, you have such a crush. The book is 6 inches from your nose (where are those glasses, you goof?), you always hold my narrow foot, rubbing your thumb on the bottom, tracing circles absently, I love to look at you.

You thrill me. I’ll kiss that collar bone when both of our hair is white as snow, I promise.

Will there ever be a time when we feel caught-up on our life? My feet are aching after the past two days so I’m glad for the gentle way you hold my foot. We’ve just had our Christmas and I think it’s more fun to be the grown-up at Christmas, the maker of the magic and memories.

We had a Christmas Eve parade, all tinies in their jammies, grown-ups in charge of the hot chocolate thermos. I sang Joy to the World while we walked, off key, and someone opened their door, they thought it was a caroler, but it’s just us, always just us out in the dark, singing about love and joy and the glory.  It was chaos; noisy and fun all day, Joe got a fire engine – heaven help us.  I wanted to hide with a book by late afternoon and you understood, you always do, thank you. You ate the pumpkin cheesecake I made and risked the wrath of the entire clan when you declared it better than any other dessert but I can see you eating apples for comfort now.

“We’re only true persons in relation to our communion,” you read aloud to me, and yes, darling, I already know.

You taught me that. Put down that book now, luv. It’ll keep until tomorrow.

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I write now and then about what love looks like for us.

In which a woman tells a story of the Incarnation
In which I share my favourite books of 2011
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  • K

    Merry Christmas, Sarah!!! I got a Miroslav Volf book from my dad for Christmas, woohoo! (Free of Charge, I think, is the title.) Looking forward to eating that book up. =D

  • A Public Faith was excellent, but I have more of a theologian crush on William Cavanaugh. Your writing is beautiful, as always.

  • Renee @ FIMBY

    The way you write about married love always gives me shivers and gives words to my own feelings about marriage, becoming one and this love I share with my husband of 16 years. I too feel 19, when I’m with him, and then I look around at our life and think “oh, no this is not the life of a 19 year old, but how exactly did this happen?” 

  • oh my sarah friend, this? this is vivid lovemaking right here. gorgeous.

  • I’m just glad to have ANY hair…but my dearest loves me so that’s even better. 🙂

  • Diana Trautwein

    Lovely musings from a tired, contented Sarah. Nice reading. 

    I actually took a class from Miroslav Volf, before he hied himself off to Yale and international fame. He was a very European professor, giving lectures in a quiet monotone, reading from a script. Then inviting one and all to a local coffee house for discussion and laughter. He is a good man and a fine thinker and he has endured enormous heartache in his life. And all of that so deeply informs his thinking and his writing. I have a hunch he is a lot of folks’ ‘boyfriend.’

    Keep making time for those footrubs on the couch, sweetie. As your tinies grow up, it will be harder to do. Do it anyway.

    • That is so cool, Diana, SO COOL. And yes, we’ll do our best.

  • Heather Kopp

    Oh, I’m so glad I found your blog. Your writing slays me.  It slays me so well that I can momentarily at least set aside my jealousy and rejoice in the gift God gave you.  Thank you.  You have a new fan.  

  • Perfection.

  • Rebecca

    So genuinely romantic!  And that is a hard thing to write…So glad for the love you and your husband share!  Thanks be to God!

  • Alisoncreame

    Your beautiful !!! Embrace it

  • Oh my heart. This is it, isn’t it? The communion of marriage that makes everything both ordinary and sacred at the same time. What a gift this post is to unwrap. Thank you for sharing. (Also? I LOVE reading your British spelling – it colours my day beautifully)

  • miroslav volf is coming to portland for the justice conference in february (along with shane claiborne, john perkins, etc. etc.). ya’ll should come on down! 

  • Stephanie

    Beautifully written…somehow you always make me want to cry a little. 

    Thanks for sharing your charmed life w/ us all. 

  • Leah

    Your What Love Looks Like posts are some of my favouites – because first they capture love but secondly I think about my husband and myself and get to say ‘me too, me too.’ Thank God for real life love.

  • Beautifully written!  This post reads like it’s a poem.