Valentine’s Day is probably my least favorite holiday of the year. Not that I don’t enjoy the idea of romantic love. I do.
The pressure of hearts, flowers and chocolates is a bit overwhelming. I’m part of the problem. I always forget to buy cards. (Making them is outside my comfort zone. I stopped that in the third grade.) I shouldn’t eat chocolate–its addictive nature feeds on my slightly addictive personality. And I prefer my flowers growing in the ground. Not dead in five days.
You could call me the Valentine joy sucker.
I wasn’t always this way. When I was younger and we had Valentine parties at school, I loved picking out cards for the rest of the students in my class. And thoroughly enjoyed receiving them. Everyone had to give each person in class a card. It became comical to see what the boys could give to the girls without making their lives complicated.
High school was just painful. Guys giving their girlfriends balloons and flowers. There were those who had a plethora of posies. Then there were those whose mothers gave them a flower. Major embarrassment. And there were those of us who walked around pretending it was all a big joke and couldn’t care less about stupid flowers.
Of course, receiving a flower would have changed that attitude immediately.
My kids used to complain about the hated holiday. If you weren’t dating someone, it was the day of the year you felt the loneliest and least desirable.
I would have chosen to skip this holiday completely and jump from New Year’s to St. Patrick’s Day. Love those leprechauns.
I get that the holiday is a celebration of love. Love needs to be celebrated and encouraged.
My cynical self is coming out. Where’s my romance?
Love is more than scented candles and dark chocolate. If it were that easy we’d all be lined up at stores, stockpiling scents and sweets to get us through those times when we feel we’re unlovable and unloved. If flowers were what it took to be loved, florists would be the highest paid professionals on earth.
There’s something about long-term commitment and selflessness that doesn’t translate easily to things. Something about for better or worse that doesn’t look bright and cheery all the time.
Love costs. God gets this because He chose to love us in spite of our response to Him. Loved us enough to sacrifice His best when we didn’t care.
“This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down His life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers.” 1 John 3:16
Love is thinking more of the other person than yourself. Not expecting to get back whatever you give. Giving of yourself because you can’t imagine the one you love having anything less than your best.
That’s a sweet scent of satisfaction that good chocolate can’t ever compete with.
Leave a Reply