The dreaded black day

It’s just another holiday.

My son, and other men I know repeat like parrots, “Valentine's Day is a holiday made up by greeting card companies to make more money.”

Well, that’s not accurate. It's been around for quite awhile, as you can read from this Wikipedia excerpt:

The day was first associated with romantic love in the circle of Geoffrey Chaucer in the High Middle Ages, when the tradition of courtly love flourished. In 18th-century England, it evolved into an occasion in which lovers expressed their love for each other by presenting flowers, offering confectionery, and sending greeting cards (known as "valentines"). Valentine's Day symbols that are used today include the heart-shaped outline, doves, and the figure of the winged Cupid. Since the 19th century, handwritten valentines have given way to mass-produced greeting cards.

Greeting cards came much later, so there.

But I digress.

The point is, what holiday is not man-made? Similar to Thanksgiving and Christmas, this holiday with heart-shapes is about love of family and friends--and giving gifts to show that affection.

In typical American fashion, we swing like chimps on vines from holiday to holiday, often overlooking the “why” of it. We neglect to remember that some people are alone. Some people want to close their eyes and wake up on the other side of it. Some people act on their feelings of despair in harmful ways.

Those of you who grew up in the 1960s and 1970s likely remember Valentine’s Day parties in the classroom. We each decorated our paper “mailbox” ready to receive little cards from each of our classmates. After gorging ourselves on pink and red cupcakes and cookies made by room-mothers, we got to open our mail.

For some children it was the highlight of the day, especially if you were a pretty girl that pre-adolescent boys vied for. Other children were mean. They left out the undesirables or even went so far as to write cruel things—anonymously of course.

So, from an early age, it has been instilled in us that this time of year shows us whether we are loved and valuable to anyone or not.

Silly, huh? But it’s what we do.

I have two failed marriages. Neither husband was very big on Valentine’s Day. That’s why our marriages failed.

Seriously, though, it did hurt to make a genuine effort to make sure someone else felt valued by me, only to receive a half-hearted last-minute card and coffee mug. Another one.

In my single years between marriages, I referred to the holiday as the Dreaded Black Day. My boss made it brighter though. He bought red carnation corsages for all the women at the newspaper. Station by station, room by room, dressed in a dark suit enhanced by a red boutonniere and red tie, he asked us each, “Will you be my Valentine?” No small feat, considering there were only three male employees.

Last year. Four days before the Dreaded Black Day, I escaped my living conditions in Australia. Not only my heart was at risk, but my health. I spent nine months trying to get back home to America.

During that time, my eyes were opened.

Two families took me under their wing and roof when I had nowhere to go, and not a lot of money to live on. Two other families helped me in other practical ways, and made sure I had fun, busy weekends to give me a break from stressful things I dealt with.

When I landed at the Seattle airport, one of my best friends launched her tiny self at me and enfolded me in a great big bear hug. She took me home and tended my wounds.

Other friends and family inundated me with e-mails, text messages, phone calls and invitations to welcome me home.

I am surrounded by love.

Funny thing is, I always have been. For the first time in my life, I know it.

I don’t know why I was so blind before. These people have always been around. They have always loved me. I have always loved them.

I think of giant redwood trees of northern California. Their cones contain up to 200 seeds when they fall to the ground.  But it isn’t until a raging fire consumes the cone that seeds can grow.

Once set free, one seed grows to nearly 300 feet tall and 50 feet in diameter. Two hundred seeds make a forest.

This year, I understand. This year, I embrace the forest of love that has been there all along.

Which brings me to the most important Love of all that I finally understand:

“Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has born? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of My hands…” Isaiah 49:15-16

And, “Fear not, I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are Mine.

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you. When you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned. The flames will not set you ablaze…since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you.” Isaiah 43:1-3

It’s not just another holiday to me this year. It’s one that reminds me that I am indeed, truly, always and forever loved.

Count your blessings. You’ll feel much better. You ARE loved.

Happy Valentines Day.