Before I awake, I feel the longings stir in my soul… just to be a cat in the sun, stretched out in God’s warmth, lazy in the most luxurious way. Ahhhhhh, purring, I feel the promise of Sabbath caress my tired mind, as I gradually emerge from the night.

Pain pours though her eyes. From the well of countless disappointments, where confusion and dying dreams decay, words, like polluted fish, escape towards the light.

It’s been 23 years since these words first pierced me with promises I didn’t understand: “Ask the Lord for rain in the time of the latter rain.” (Zechariah 10:1a)

“Miles and miles away, My Darling,” her smokey, dreamy voice breathes golden melancholy into my indigo evening. “But in the blue of morning the break of dawn has come / And I’m watching the horizon / Where yesterday has gone.”

We are gathered here today for my son’s, my first-born’s, wedding. An hour from now, the word “mine” for David will primarily belong to his breathtaking bride, and I taste salt at the thought. “Thank you for raising the man of my dreams,” she wrote me, ever thoughtful, tender, generous.

You’ve been contemplating a get-away with someone you love. While still in the dream-phase, all things seem possible, but at departure’s approach, the conflicts between each individual’s plan become more pronounced.

Confidential cries cross the boundary of silence to my inbox in response to a survey of relationships. Humbled by their trust, I recognize my own struggles in many of these e-mails. There are nuts and bolts to be learned in long-term interactions -decoding of male / female languages and lessons passed from the seasoned to the less experienced.