The Marriage of Janet and David Henderson
August 20, 2011
Good Morning. Welcome to this joyous feast of love.
We make so much of love. We paint it into the clouds, just beyond our reach. We stitch it down, with golden threads of expectation, expectations no human can hope to fulfill. We dance love into hyperbolic ecstasy, and are disappointed when we need to sit down and rest. We lay the tables in our minds with platter upon platter of exotic fare, and are disappointed when, sated with a piece of bread and a sip of wine, we nap, content, while the banquet grows cold.
All this because there are not words, not art, not philosophy, not music, not religion that can fully express the simple joy of holding hands.
We cannot articulate the simple, the pure joy—of a hand cupped beneath a chin or smoothing the hair from our brow; of an embrace at the end of the day or when the news is frightening; the shared emotion when joy bursts through the door, or sorrow creeps over the window sill.
We can’t “say” it. But we can act on it. Today, Janet and David have joined us together to remind us. They have tossed back the hyperbole, and cast off the cynicism of our time, all times.
