Happy Saint Valentine’s Day!
How many of us can remember getting our hearts broken? Honestly, it only happened to me once — and never by a boy when I was young. I learned my first lesson about a broken heart back in the third grade. I was alone in my pain, surrounded by too many brothers and sisters, and our mother was simply too busy to hear my sad little story. If I kept that memory in my memory bank all these years, it was for a reason — a life-learning reason. I am grateful to God for all of my childhood memories, because through the good and the bad, they have molded me into who I am today. And through it all, Jesus will always be my Valentine.
Love Story
My love story with Mike is the story of two people God brought together — forever. We are truly one. I see what he sees, and we love each other unconditionally. That will never change. We are examples to our family of how to face whatever the world throws your way and come out standing.
Now, we are both hotheads — and we do not always agree. But honestly, that is what keeps our marriage exciting. And when I am wrong, I apologize.
Attending Mass
Attending Mass every Sunday has brought Mike and me to a better understanding of how much we appreciate and welcome God in our lives. Over 54 years of marriage, we have both learned to place God first. It is never too late to grow closer to Him.
Slowly, I am coming to the realization that my opinion does not hold much weight compared to what God has in store for me.
I always look to God through all my misgivings in life, and I continually pray for His guidance. I want to become the woman God created me to be — and only through His special graces can I say, “Thank You for loving me, Lord.”
Flowers
Flowers bring me great joy. Mike knows that my favorites are roses — so we have 43 rose bushes in our yard. Yes, I counted them.
Our home is always filled with flowers, and Mike makes sure of that. Almost every week, fresh flowers arrive. Last week it was tulips. This week, in honor of Valentine’s Day, carnations and roses.
And of course, I always share my flowers with the Blessed Mother Mary — making sure she, too, gets the honor of love.
Celebrating Love
I cannot recall how many years we have celebrated Valentine’s Day by going to dinner with friends — but this year we celebrated a day early. On St. Valentine’s Day itself, we had dinner with Russ, Sonja, and the boys.
The drive to dinner was hilarious. Their 16-year-old son Lucas decided to drive — and let’s just say he had three very vocal backseat drivers, all of them full of advice.
The following is a story of my first heartbreak.
The Valentine Card
She carefully sorted her Valentine cards, setting aside the one for her teacher. But there was one card unlike all the others — the one that read “Will you be my Valentine?” That card made her little heart patter with excitement. She was smitten by Joe, the smartest kid in her third-grade class. He was perfect in her eyes, and even his crowded front teeth made her smile.
No one in her family of eight knew that she had given her heart to Joe. How could they understand? Her four-year-old sister was too young to grasp such things. Her three brothers would tease her to the point of tears. And her two older sisters saw her as nothing more than a little child. The only person she could trust was her best friend Anita — petite, kind, and sweet — and only Anita knew just how much this little girl loved Joe.
The Big Day
It was Valentine’s Day — the day she would finally know if her true love would reciprocate. The bus ride to school seemed to take forever. All she could think about were the cards she and Joe would exchange. Her unspoken love was about to reach a new zenith, and that was a lot for an eight-year-old to carry.
When she walked into her classroom, she quietly took her seat toward the back of the room. They sat in alphabetical order, and as always, her seat was among the last ones. She wished her last name started with a P — like Joe’s — instead of a U.
All day long she waited. Through lunch. Through two recesses. Still waiting.
The art project that day was to make a holder for all the Valentine cards. She cut and pasted carefully — and the end product was perfect. Perfect for holding that one card from Joe.
The Broken Heart
Fifteen minutes before dismissal, the teacher announced it was time to exchange cards. The little girl’s eyes widened with excitement. She pulled out her brown bag full of Valentines, and you could hear the giggles as the children took turns handing them out.
Then it was Joe’s turn. As he made his way toward her, she put her head down. This was it. Now she would know how much he loved her.
The bell rang. It was time to go home. She held that one card tightly in her hand — and opened it. A kitten holding a heart. “You are sweet, Valentine.”
What? No. No. This was not happening.
She looked over at Anita. Anita was smiling — almost glowing. And there, in Anita’s petite little hands, was the very card she had set aside for Joe.
Joe loved Anita. Not her.
She wanted so badly to cry that it physically hurt — but she held herself together. The bus ride home was torture. And sitting right next to Anita made every mile worse.
Yes, this is my first memory of Valentine’s Day. I have no idea whatever became of Joe — but I remember that he broke my heart that day.
St. Valentine
St. Valentine of Rome is the patron saint of love, young people, happy marriages, beekeepers, and epilepsy. Emperor Claudius II had him thrown in prison for marrying couples and professing his faith in Jesus. While he was imprisoned, he healed a jailer’s daughter of her blindness. And on the very day of his execution, he left that girl a card — signed simply, “Your Valentine.”
My Prayer
Dear Lord, bring all married couples into union with You. For those who are contemplating separation or divorce, heal their broken hearts and reconcile their differences. Amen.