March 27, 1975

Janet Robertson, March 27, 1975 your love came crashing in on my heart. Over these years your love for me wins whatever battle my mind wants to start with my heart. I get more “thoughtful” during this month because of the courtship struggles you endured with me. I know I “sweated” you hard in a time when this approach was not considered “cool”. With other girls the “conventional” approach left me bewildered and woefully unequipped to get a second audience. There was a “bit” in one of Richard Pryor’s albums were the neighborhood drunk says, “Boy I’m going to help you because I believe you got potential”. I would like to think you saw 2020 Lance back in 1975. According to the 1975 “handbook” I got it all wrong. I stared too much and actually winked at you (a few times). I “begged” for your phone number until I almost lost my mind. First call I bared my 16-year-old soul. I fumbled with your fingers trying to hold your hand the first time. First date, no car so we had to catch the bus in Chicago in March! First date plans collapsed, so you helped me fold laundry while we watched the Wizard of Oz. Took you home on the "bus". I was absolutely sure you weren't snuggling but hiding from the Chicago "hawk". I thanked God for the "gentle breeze" that moved you closer me. We have been filling our bus with love and memories ever since. Alone I know I could not have held on to you this long by myself. "I can't, but God can." I love you sweetheart. Our love wins because He loved us first. 1 John 4:19 Glad the tomb is empty.

She Braided My Hair

March is our sweetheart Month... She braided my hair. Starting in March 1975 for about six months straight Janet would braid my hair every week or so. I would take it down, wash it, “blow it out” and she would braid it back up. At first I didn’t think she could braid my short hair. Within a few months my hair began to grow and I was beginning to grow an “Afro”.

 As much as I appreciated that “fro”, looking back, the thing I enjoyed most was the time we spent talking while she wrestled with my scalp. We spent time sitting in the park or on her front porch just talking. It could have been about anything or nothing at all but we were together. 

Today I appreciate that we don’t need “our own space” or need a “get away” from each other. We are comfortable talking about “anything” or nothing at all. She braided my hair and we got to know each other that summer. She grew a fro, but we really grew a life together in the process because we talked, while she braided. This quarantine ain’t so bad. I don’t have any hair to braid but we still talking. I love you sweetheart. Glad The Tomb Is Empty 

Getting a head start on March. This month marks 45 years I’ve loved loving you. We have walked through some valley’s, some deeper than others. We have worshiped at the top of some beautiful mountains with God as our guide. The view and the colors of love have been remarkable. However, He is constantly changing those colors of love. We have learned to recognize when the shade may be changing. The key is He does not have to change brushes to change colors. Jesus moves across the tapestry of our marriage to restore, renew, and revive if necessary. With Him at the center of our lives, I know we will always be. I love you sweetheart, still. Glad the tomb is empty. Original Art Work By Rhonda Robertson