They were an older couple in my young eyes, at least in their forties, with teenagers in their house, and as they walked through the mall they held hands. It seemed odd. Wasn’t hand holding reserved for the young, the passionate, for people in love?
Time stood still whenever our pastor and his wife decided to close the service with their signature song. Seeing them come together arm in arm and hearing the piano play the introduction to "He Touched Me," perked me up immediately. It wasn't their singing that made it magical, although they weren't bad singers, but it was the way they made me feel. You could see sincere appreciation, respect and love float around them. Could my pastor, a man who only wore polyester pants, be in love with his wife?!
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