Short

February is the month of love.  If you haven’t been reminded that Valentine’s Day is February 14th by at least one street sign or one advertisement, you haven’t had fresh air in a while. 

I’ve never been a fan of Valentine’s Day.  In high school, all the “cool” people got flowers delivered, and the secretary’s voice would call over the PA system, “First Name, please come to the office.” everyone basically knew why.  Either from a boyfriend, girlfriend or “mystery” person, the name called over the loudspeaker on Valentine’s Day was getting flowers. 

My name was never called over the loudspeaker, and while as a teenager, it was disappointing, it’s not the reason I’m not a fan of Valentine’s Day.  My disappointment in this day comes from the commercialization of the holiday.  Believed to celebrate the martyr who, according to legend was imprisoned for performing weddings for soldiers who were forbidden to marry and for ministering to Christians who were persecuted under Roman Empire; Valentine’s Day has become a day to shower a person with gifts and treats that you wouldn’t normally give. 

It is this commercial concept of giving because of a date – giving gifts and treats you wouldn’t normally give – on a day symbolic of love – that bothers me most.  Love isn’t chocolates wrapped in heart-shaped, red foil boxes.  Love isn’t comfy pajamas or even diamond jewelry.  Love, in its purest form, is unabashed courage in the face of fear, unrelenting in adversity, unashamed in trauma, and unflinching in despair.  If you want to see love, look at the person helping the elderly from one side of the street to the other, or with groceries, or just sitting at a lunch table listening.  If you want to see love, look at the food pantries that are filled on Tuesday and empty again on Thursday.  If you want to hear love, listen to children speaking softly to baby dolls, imitating parents.  If you want to hear love, listen to coaches motivating average athletes.  If you want to see love, watch a man hold the hand of a child or open a door for a stranger.  If you want to see love, watch a stranger give the literal coat off their back to person without.  I’ve been given the gift of eyesight, and hearing.  I’ve been blessed to live in my small hometown and in big cities on the East Coast.  I’ve been afforded the opportunities to work alongside generous people who have millions in bank accounts and give without hesitation when asked. 

I’ve seen love.  It’s not limited to Valentine’s Day.  It happened on a street corner in Norfolk Virginia when I gave a homeless man in a wheelchair my Aunt Fannie’s homemade afghan because he needed it more than I did.  I don’t remember his name, and I don’t need to.  His skin was the color of chocolate, and his hair was the color of the foam on the latte I enjoyed earlier.  His hands were weathered, but his eyes still had a gleam to them.  Pride maybe.  Love surely. 

I’ve seen love.  It happened on a random Friday night when ten teenagers sat on the floor and watched City of Angels and ate Sweedish Fish with me and shared conversation about the miracles that happen all around us – if only we choose to acknowledge them. 

I’ve seen love.  It was in the parking garage of the Walter Reed Army Medical Center when I told my husband he could divorce me because, according to the fertility doctors, I’d never be able to give him a biological child.  He stood there, staring at me as if I’d been speaking a foreign tongue, and told me no.  I’m so glad our children take after him. 

I’ve heard love.  It was in the voice of my aunts, one February 10th, when they told my momma I’d be home.  I’d be home and I’d be able to make it to my grandmother’s funeral.  I heard their love for me. 

I’ve seen love at the Fleming Island Office and in Susan’s home, when the people I worked with showered me with seven – yes, seven – totes full of brand-new baby clothes and all the trappings of household baby items.  Even though I’d only known them for two years. 

I’ve heard love in the voice of my daddy, when he told me that he loved me in the Cottonwood Cemetery after we put his daddy in the ground. 

I’ve seen love in the eyes of a person who had so much grace for me and my spirit leadings… the one whose house I randomly showed up at when I couldn’t hug her at work; the one who hugged me after a three hour tear-filled “non-coincidental” conversation at a nail salon, the one who allowed me the grace to come into her salon and “loiter” – to just sit and be hurt and be in her space without judgment while hair was being done. 

I’ve seen so much love in my life, and none of it had to do with February 14th. 

As we go about this next week, as you check back for very TEAL posts, I encourage you to do something for me… look for love.  Listen for love.  It’s all around you.  I promise.