When John and I were driving from Philly to Chicago before we were engaged we read out loud to pass the time. My 65' Mustang had a radio, but no tape deck, and CDs had not yet hit the market. No matter. I was enchanted with the sound of his voice as he told fairy tales on the turnpike.
This week he read a story to me called The Queen by Anna Wahlenberg. In it there is a young maiden named Adelgunda with eyes so guileless they could pierce into people's souls. Everyone loved her for her sincerity, and found the truth shining in her eyes to bring light to their own hearts. Adelgunda's gaze was drawn to what was good, and held only compassion for what was evil, though her perception revealed both.
One day a prince was coming to visit, and she knew that he was promised to a princess in a neighboring land. As he approached their castle she hid herself so that she might gaze at him without being seen. What her eyes discovered in his interactions with his horse and servants was that he was the most chivalrous man in all the earth. She knew without question that she would think of him every hour of every day for the rest of her life.
But she could not let him witness this devotion, as he was promised to another. So she covered herself with a veil. The prince was eager to see her fine eyes, and entreated that she show her face. But Adelgunda demurely refused. Her father was displeased that she welcomed their honored guest with such modesty, and demanded that she remove it. The prince begged him not to force her, and abruptly left with his entourage.
People in the kingdom gossiped about Adelgunda's refusal, and fabricated reasons for her behavior. Their mutterings tarnished the good man's reputation, such that the lady he was wooing declined his pursuits.
Adelgunda was distraught to think that she had caused the prince to suffer. She begged her father to invite the prince and all the dignitaries of the land so that she might right this wrong.
When the prince arrived she spoke to the crowd, even with the veil on her face.
"There is no man more noble and good in all the kingdom."
Adelgunda lifted the corner of her veil just enough for the prince to see love shining there, and his own eyes mirrored back unceasing affection. She still believed herself unworthy of a prince, and turned to leave the room. But the prince blocked her way and pronounced her to be a queen. All the people shouted their consent, and he lifted her gentle hand in his. She became his bride.
When John and I were driving together back in 1979, I kept my love for him a secret. It was not yet time for a declaration. I saw qualities in him that shone like stars. In time a veil has sometimes muted that sparkle, such that I can almost forget them. Not because they are gone but rather because I cannot see them.
One of our family's Christmas decorations is a string of the cards we have sent out for the past forty years. I reread the one John wrote to me, and the one I inscribed to him back before any promises had been declared.
"The shepherds came with haste. May you come with haste as well to find the Lord in His Word. Hastily, John"
"I can see the Lord in your eyes," I wrote.
It reminded me of the vision that was clear then, the one that has been clouded over with the mundane preoccupations inherent to this time of year.
I am immensely grateful that he took my hand in his.
