The smudge

I know it's been an awfully long while. Lately I've been trying vainly to come up with a brilliant idea for a post. Nothing has come.

However today I ran across the words I wrote in my Beloved's valentine card earlier this year. I found them poignant and still very true. I apologize that it is yet another love-themed post, but I'm still a newlywed technically. Cut me some slack.

I didn't know there was a black

dot on the page. Until I touched it.

It smudged around the beautiful capital

S I had made. And not just once ... every

time I tried to fix it - yet another smudge

appeared. I was crushed. The card had already

taken longer than I had anticipated and I was just

starting to like its peculiarity. And now it's marred.

Flawed. How could I give it to you?                     

  Then it dawned on me. Stephen, you have touched me - 

and I you - in places of the soul that have never been seen.

Before, these small vices and imperfections were unnoticeable

little dots. But then you touched me. They were brought to light 

in unlovely ways. I've cried so much these past two months, because 

you have smeared my dots. I didn't want to see those flaws. 

I didn't  want you to know. I couldn't give you a flawed 

        bride. I had to be perfect for you.                                            

But I'm not.                

                                     And it is painful

for you - and me - to have to face these things. You

may think this is an exaggerated story, and not

one to be told on Valentines Day. But the

fact that you love me in spite of my

imperfections - that you love me

unconditionally - THAT is the

best gift I've ever been

given to me. Stephen,

That is true

love.