Hard-wired for it, I can't remember that thing called romance never being with me. Not in the gushy, girly-girl, over-the-top kind of way. Not that I can fault that. It is what it is. But rather so deep in my soul that it covers everything else. It rises to a three note tune and overwhelms me. The melancholy or the sensuality or the desire to immerse myself in its beauty. It's integral to who I am even when I don't know who that is.
This romance in my soul emerges from the sad, sacred sounds of Chris Botti's trumpet. It hovers inside me bringing all the insecurity of that first date. First kiss. Lips touching.
I sense the holiness intended -but corrupted.
The intensity of sensation that God intended for good. The genesis of romance from God's heart to the human will. Tainted but salvaged in potential obedience.
I can't take the sensuality away from it. Hand in hand they travel. Merging. Right or wrong.
I capture the essence of romance in my novels. Because I must. If I do nothing else well, I write romance - total immersion. Not demanding it conform to me or anyone else but that it treasure the gift of God to humanity.
Thank you, Father, for letting me feel the romance that reigns pure in your Spirit. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.