Today, I’m told, is a holiday. I’m afraid I don’t much care. I’m not politically opposed to it or offended by the “commercialized and forced romance fostered by social pressure on men blah blah blah.” I just don’t see much point in going out of my way one day a year for romance—because Valentine’s Day just isn’t about love.
My father has told me a lot of things (if you know him, I’m sure he’s told you a lot of things, too 😉 ). One that has always stood out in my mind was when he invited me to watch the very end of the movie Fargo with him (edited on TV).
It’s probably the least interesting scene in the movie: policewoman Marge Gunderson is sitting in bed with her husband, Norm, talking about his entry in to the duck art stamp contest. He’s disappointed to take second; she reassures him that he’s done well (and that people will use three-cent stamps).
“That’s love,” my father informed me. “That is real love.”
At the time, I was probably a young teenager and just had to take his word for it. But today, I have to say that I agree. I see that same level of real love in my relationships of all kinds today.
Love is paying attention. It’s knowing what your loved ones are doing, what they care about, what their aspirations are. Love is encouragement. Love is hoping the best for one another, thinking the best of one another, and finding the best in one another.
Love is being there. (Can you even imagine where you’d be without them?) Love is remembering one another. Love is caring for and about one another.
Love is listening to my husband’s account of his day with interest. Love is rehashing the same four political discussions we always have. Love is helping Hayden climb onto the couch even though he just jumped down. Love is making dinner despite Hayden’s constant clamoring to see into the cooking pans—and despite the fact that he probably won’t eat it.
Love is the sum total of every action that shows that we are thinking of one another. Love is the constant underpinning of a secure family life.
Despite this talk of love, I don’t plan much of a Valentine’s Day celebration. We may not have a ton of chocolate or flowers or balloons or cards or romantic dinners for two (though there will be tokens, I’ll admit). That’s okay with me; honestly, I appreciate the tokens more when I get them because it was his idea, not the calendar’s.
For Valentine’s Day, like the days before and the days after, our family will have love. May yours also.
Enter Scribbit’s February Write-Away Contest, too! Oh, wait, I mean, don’t enter. Just let me win 😉 .