It never entered my mind as a 7-year-old kid to be filled with anxiety over Valentine’s Day. You? I surely don’t remember a bunch of rules about it, imposed upon us by the school administration in my public elementary school. Not like in some schools these days.
Granted, memory fades after 56 years, but come Valentine’s Day, it was a given that I would sit down the night before, pencil in hand, and write the name of each classmate on a little envelope. After signing my name on the back of a little valentine card, I’d stuff it in the envelope and move to the next one. Fifteen minutes, project done.
Now, to be honest, some kids’ cards got a bit more attention than others. I really didn’t care if Freddy wanted to be my valentine, but it’d be nice if Sandy liked my card. You get the idea.
Next day, the sack of cards went to school, along with an old shoebox decorated with red hearts and lacey stuff. Once all my classmates arrived, the ritual involved a mad scramble to deliver cards to the respective shoeboxes. Later in the afternoon, boxes retrieved, we’d feverishly open the cards—hoping Freddy didn’t want to be my Valentine!—while the teacher distributed those nasty candy hearts with “Be Mine” and “Forever” and such stamped on them.
It was all innocent fun that no one took very seriously—as long as we got candy.
Naturally, that all changed years later.
Before I left for my sophomore year of college, my then Valentine of sixteen months made an 11×17 calendar with a different page for each month. After scrounging around in the basement, I discovered I still have that calendar packed away in a “Memorabilia” box.
Turning the page from January to February, 1978…
…the 14th stood out—a red heart unmistakably calling attention to the all-important holiday! But we were 650 miles apart. No SKYPE…no cell phones….
To call my Valentine, I had two options—well, three. Our dorm room had a phone connected to the main university switchboard.
1) I could make a long-distance call and have it charged to my parents’ phone.
2) I could make a collect call and let my Valentine’s parents pay for it.
3) I could get a stash of coins, go to a pay phone, and keep dropping coins every couple of minutes.
I was a broke college kid, so option #3 was rarely used. Option #1 was the norm, but dad squawked about it from time to time. Option #2? Sometimes, but understandably risky business—what if her dad answered. Or maybe worse, her mom! I have no idea which I used on that Valentine’s Day…but talk we did. My guess, I used option #1 and climbed in a closet for a little bit of privacy.
Far more memorable was the gift package.
In my campus mailbox was a small slip—a package awaits! The handwriting and the return address on the box signaled it was from my Valentine!
Sidebar. Every reader who attended college as a dorm student probably understands the palpable excitement of receiving a box from home. It could only mean something good!
I hurried back to my dorm room and tore into the box. Goodies abounded! But the central goody in the gift box lay in a large, round container. I removed the lid, my eyes bulged, my mouth salivated. My Valentine had baked my favorite—a strawberry rhubarb pie. And the treasure survived—mostly intact—through the USPS journey from Chicago!
Two and a half years later, my Valentine also became my bride, so we’re about to celebrate our 46th Valentine’s Day together. And the postal-service pie is but the first of many I’ve enjoyed from her loving hands through the years. I must say, I’m so grateful that she gladly took the “Be Mine” and “Forever” hearts and gave me ones, too!
As the years pile up, the challenges and complexities of life multiply, it’s so easy for the simple delight of a mailed pie to get crowded out…for the tender, loving thought behind it to be taken for granted. In the last nearly half-century, my Valentine has repeated such acts of thoughtfulness countless times. Of course, not all in quite such dramatic fashion. Some small, little things, such as adding a special ingredient to a meal—or leaving a distasteful one out!
I wish I could honestly confess I’ve noticed every one of those things and expressed the deserved gratitude and praise. I should be better at this. I need to be.
And yet, my Valentine doesn’t do those things to receive the praise. She does them to express the love. She does them almost as second-nature, as if she can’t help it! I’ve never peered into her daily journal, but if I were to do so, I seriously doubt she’s got a list prompted by the question, “What loving thing can I do for my Valentine?” Doesn’t need a list—she just does them.
I am truly a blessed man, I know. I don’t always remember that as I ought, but I am…and deep down I know it.
If I didn’t have the sense to draw that conclusion on my own, God helps me out with it in His Word.
“Whoso finds a wife [a life-long Valentine!] finds a good thing and obtains favor from the Lord,” declares Proverbs 18:22.
I’m not a huge fan of The Message paraphrase, but it offers a good rendering of the verse:
“Find a good spouse, you find a good life—and even more, the favor of God!”
When I was an 18-year-old kid falling in love with this beautiful, young Polish-Italian girl, I had no idea what my life would be like. I sensed a call to the ministry and was headed in that direction.
But what should I look for in a potential spouse?
A few basic, fundamental requirements were obvious. She had to be on the same page when it came to our faith, and she had to be a willing partner in whatever “the ministry” meant. Beyond that, I couldn’t know in detail the kind of woman I needed by my side.
But God did.
Also in Proverbs:
“Houses and riches are an inheritance from fathers, but a prudent [life-long Valentine] is from the Lord.”
– Prov. 19:14
I couldn’t begin to recount all we have been through together in 42 years of church ministry. Wonderful experiences. Terrible heartbreak. Personal attacks. Overwhelming obstacles. Bitter assaults. Marvelous deliverances. Dark, dark days by the score. Joyful days even more.
But I can honestly say, I cannot imagine a woman more perfectly suited for me than the Valentine that caught my eye at church in 1973, that captured and secured my heart seven years later, that continues to hold it in joyful captivity for over four decades.
Indeed, this prudent woman is a gift from the Lord, perfectly suited for this most unworthy—but truly blessed—man!
One more proverb comes to mind, and needs to stick there:
“…rejoice in the [life-long Valentine] of your youth.”
– Proverbs 5:18
I’ll never forget the second look when my not-yet-Valentine walked through the door of our church auditorium. Our eyes met for a fleeting moment, and seemingly unmoved she carried on, laughing with her friends as they went to find their seat.
“Who’s that?” I asked my friend, whose sister was with the girl that just caught my eye.
It took a few years before our first date, but she had always attracted my attention. I rejoiced when she agreed to go out with me…to be my girl…to become my wife.
Yes, life happens. Stuff clouds the mind and tends to dull the heart.
And then along comes another birthday, an Anniversary, or Valentine’s Day to clear the fog, refocus the attention, and remind me of the countless reasons I have—far beyond pie and candy hearts!—for rejoicing in the life-long Valentine of my youth.
The priceless gift from the Lord!
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