Skip to main content

Don’t Forget to have Hot Dates

https://drive.google.com/uc?export=view&id=1KZrd5SaFbT0RMJaUfLH4PazuKFDR1XhZ

Hey guys! Hope you’re having an amazing day today! Don’t forget to pray and put God first.

đź’–


This was on my mind this morning...


I joined a Christian wives group on Facebook about a month ago. I noticed numerous postings from wives stating that date nights are basically non-existent. Busyness, tiredness, and other excuses blotted the group with a gloomy gray pen.


My mind triggered...alert, alert, alert! 


I was astounded by the statistical confessions of the “no-date” rate. Don’t fall into the mundane practical pit. No! Find that notch of time before the boring ballpoint scribbles over passion. 


Yes, I know...You have children. That feeble perception wavers widely. I’m not going to sugarcoat the ugliness sitting in the corner...you let life become a tyrant that needs to be belittled. 


I cannot express it enough...pencil in time to be one-on-one with your spouse. Channel his or her mind, and equate each other as lovers and a charmed couple again. 


My godly, passionate example...my mom and dad. When my brother and I were younger, they circled a certain day on the calendar, found a babysitter, and galavanted off into the romantic night. They tamed tenacious time. Their busy hearts, they always did find.


Dates do not have to entail expensive delights. They can be togetherness under fluorescent moonlight. 


Conjure sweet soul communication and separation of souls will never be a pitiful plight. 


So, my married couples, young and old, establish dire dates. Because, communication and rejuvenation are inherited by the years to come. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Look for the Blessing Red Birds, Cherry Blossoms, and Orchids of Beauty in Life

March has marched in with a vengeance of change. In the Trojan horse saddlebags hid a shrewd surprise, Coronavirus. The gray clouds of uncertainty pelted us with “riddle me this” rain. The Trojan horse then galloped over valleys of vividness. Alas, the vivid vex was prevalent over states and pastures. The virus staked our soil with transforming turmoil. Ah, but that riddle rain also brought with it growth of cherry blossoms. They grew tall and strong amidst wrestling weeds of “where’s the joy?”   I was covered by those cheerful cherry blossom trees last weekend. My Birthday was March 16th. I must admit, I felt as if one of my unwanted presents was the looming virus. I sensed a thick foreign fog. But, my husband, my Superman, saved my “Birthday”. He pulled me from the dense fog and flew me around our “Metropolis”. We shopped, reminisced, ate cheesecake, and laughed with merriment. It’s as if he set me upon a marriage merry-go-round. Round-and-round we go, on love embellishe...

Pine Heart Roots

  On a Friday afternoon, I packed the car and my mom and I drove down Sea Blue Lane.   Our destination was Pine Prairie, Louisiana.   Wheels rolled down blacktop while music notes rocked and rolled through the Malibu.   We sped through Lafayette and entered “Country Land”.   As I passed by horses, my eyes lit up with little girl joy, as usual.   Cows grazed as clouds speckled their backs.   The bayous were fading behind us as pine trees started to grow in their place.   The scenery was refreshing, renewing our minds with fresh crawfish waters.   We finally arrived at my cousin, Dana’s house and parked upon O’Banion territory.   I needed to strip my bark of “stress needles” and regrow peace around my “pine heart”.       I was feeling distant from my dad.   Year after year, the roughness I once felt on his hand was smoothing.   He is branded in my heart, but I needed that brand to be lit under fire ...

Country Bound

Country Bound I travel down a mellow, yellow sunflower road upon miniscule “wishing” pebbles.   A monument stands tall amiss sprightly wildflowers.   Rustic, red barn, tell me your wisdom, tell me your stories.   A split rail fence is my guide, built by thick, rough hands.   It dances to a patterned rhythm around a charming, pastel blue farmhouse.   I am country bound, my soul to be found. I pass by a field flowing with radiant corn.   Stalks stand tall, presiding over misty pastures.   Golden wheat is nuzzled with sunny rays.   It waltzes with the wind and tangos with blades of grass.   Hearts of farmers beat in rolling hills, growing “love soy seeds”. An apple pie sits on a crackled window sill cooling for attention.   Cinnamon swirls through a two-story house.   Maple beans, sweet greens, and cornbread overflow the Amish-built table.   Greens pop into savoring mouths.   Sugary beans candy-coat t...