NB: The series on the trinity will continue tomorrow
This, of course, is a photo of my lovely wife. She is a gift to me for which I am unceasingly greatful. What her encouragement and support has meant to me throughout “these seminary years,” in particular, is quite unspeakable. I couldn’t ask for a better friend.
In honor of her, and of your own valentine, Shakespeare’s most marvelous sonnet (116):
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
I can’t think of many alterations I would want to alter in Leslie, nor can I imagine that the compass of Time’s bending sickle will have much success against her rosy lips and cheeks. But even if it does, my love for her will not alter even to the edge of doom.