Honor

My day was full. I worked in the morning and then he and I looked at house. It had potential. It was small, white with black shutters on a acre of land down a fairly quiet road in the country. As we peeped through the windows into the empty house I envisioned what it could look like. A little paint here, a couch there. I liked it.
After house shopping we went on a date. Even though we were not married, dates had become very precious to me. We spent a fair amount of time together through the week, planning the wedding, shopping for houses and all of that but a date was to spend quality time together without an agenda. We went to a fancy Italian restaurant and then took a long walk along the nearby levee. As we walked, we had our first discussion about children and our future. It was a bit awkward. Eventually we sat on a swing by the water and we prayed. His arm held me protectively and he rested his forehead on mine as he prayed for our future.
Back at my house we noticed the beauty of the starry night. We walked to the fire pit and sat side by side on the concrete bench. We discussed the glory of God and had another time of prayer. Again he held me close. Something in my heart stirred, I loved being held but it still didn’t seem right.
“I have a confession to make.” he said a few minutes after the prayer. He told me that his conscious had been pricked.  “We’ve been sitting really close physically during prayer time. My heart wasn’t in the right place.” he admitted.
I acknowledged his feeling and concern yet I felt like there was more that I needed to say. I didn’t want to do it, would more comfortable to let it slide. “Perhaps we should refrain from any form of physical touch other than holding hands during prayer.”
He readily agreed. I felt a surge of respect, for I had found a man of true honor.