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I LOVE Valentine's Day. There I said it. I love going into stores and seeing shelves covered in pinks, reds and purples. I love all the hearts. I love the stuffed animals. I love the chocolates. It all makes me feel warm and fuzzy and happy. I don't even care if it is a manufactured holiday wrapped up in commercialism. I love the day.
Yesterday, my kids celebrated Valentine's Day at our homeschool co-op. It was great fun...a little chaotic...but full of good memories. Last week, each kid decorated a paper Valentine bag with stickers. This week, the bags were set up and the kids filled them with goodies for each other...well, I think mostly the parents filled the bags, but the kids loved getting the bags with all the candies, cards, pencils and stickers. It was fun to sit back and watch kids of all ages rush in at lunchtime, eager to see what awaited them.
I get happy memories just by holding the little sticker-covered paper bags....the excitement of seeing which friends gave the cutest valentine, or the best candy. Watching my kids dig through the bags after school was a deeper level of joy for me as the parent. Who doesn't love to be loved? It feels good to be known. It brings pleasure to our hearts to celebrate friendships. We find rest when we are loved.
This little Valentine exchange also brought me back to another Valentine's Day that didn't feel quite so restful and pleasure-filled...at least not at first. The setting was a high school cafeteria. I was eating my lunch from a paper bag. My hair was a big, curly 90's style. I was probably donning a silk shirt and vest. I was surrounded by a few close girlfriends and filled with lots of insecurities. A guy friend (of a friend, of a friend) came by our circle on that fateful day and handed every girl a red, heart-shaped sucker...every girl, that is, except me. Yep. There in a circle of about 5 girls, I was deliberately left out. Forsaken. Embarrassingly set apart. I was crushed. My day was ruined.
I came home that afternoon and sobbed my eyes out. I was too embarrassed to ever return to school. I had no idea, at the time, about homeschooling, but if I had known, I'm sure I would have begged my mom to keep me home. My shallow semblance of any kind of confidence was shattered forever. Life. Was. Over.
Until my dad came home from work. After I told him what happened, he loaded us all up into the car and we went out for dinner. After dinner, Dad stopped for a final errand at a store and returned to our car carrying a big box of chocolate candy. Just. For. Me. I don't remember exactly what he said, but I know it was something witty about chocolates being way better than a sucker anyway.
My dad loved to love me. He knew me. He celebrated my value as his daughter. He brought rest to my soul and healing to my heart by purposefully showing me his love. My Dad loved me well that day, and I am thankful for the memory of it.
That afternoon in high school, I remember feeling unloved, broken, insecure. But my dad reminded me that he fully accepted me simply because I was his daughter. I did not have to prove to him that I was worthy of his love. His simple act of cherishing me has helped me to be purposeful in loving others well.
My dad's gift that Valentine's night was more than just a box of chocolates. His gift is a beautiful picture of a deeper truth of my Heavenly Father's love for me. It was His gift to me, not a thing I have had to earn. Jesus' love brings rest to my soul and healing to my heart. In Him, I am fully known, fully loved, and fully accepted. Jesus loves me this I know...and I can love because He first loved me. (1 John 4:19)
Happy Valentine's Day, Dad. Thank you for loving me so well. I love you, too.
