The roses are dying, little by little, babies' breath wilting behind shiny red ribbons. Candy hearts are on clearance. And -- praise hands raised -- the sickeningly sweet commercials that insist real love is measured in carats have been shelved until next season.
And at the bottom of the bed this morning, I stretched my toes beneath the blankets and found another's foot, ice cold as always, and I sandwiched it between both of mine ... the foot sandwich, an unheralded, less-than-lovely, perhaps not so marketable, tribute to what real, everyday love looks like.
Bex stayed at Gigi's house this weekend (and returned utterly spoiled, but that's another post...) while Ryan and I road-tripped (one of our official, shared love languages) to Pigeon Forge to stay with seven other couples in a chalet for the weekend. And it was good.
On the way down, in a style only one who has traveled to or through Gatlinburg can appreciate, we were bombarded with touristy teasers -- billboards that sang of heart-shaped jacuzzis, a wedding chapel where you could get married 24-7 in Old Time Photo saloon dress, and one store with a simple neon sign that read (much to an English teacher's chagrin) "Sexy Stuf." The single "f," I suppose, set it apart from all other seedy adults-only locales. Love, like tiny snow flurries, was in the air.
As we watched flurries fall and dissolve on the cracked windshield of our little car, we laughed at the way love is marketed. The way it's sold.
And then we humbled ourselves, noting all of the ways that we buy into it, even we who have been "bought with a price."
I was cheered, however, by the real love happening in the human skin of dear friends this weekend. People-watching as I often do, I caught glimpses of the way love looks in the lives of real people. The way shared furniture gave the excuse to lap-sit and be close. The way a group of raucous, manly husbands woke early to cook a hearty breakfast and -- ladies, prepare to swoon -- DO THE DISHES as well.
One fabulous mama friend of mine was leaving her sweet babe for the very first time -- and doing it with a brave smile because she knows that husbands sometimes need our full attention, our bodies gussied and primped and free from milk-stained sweat clothes. One couple talked of their impending move to Africa, the way God is laying their hearts bare and answering a cacophony of prayers for one orphaned little girl. Then there was the husband who arranged it all, helping his wife, my Yaya sister, take turning thirty with a grain of salt ... and a few skiing bruises.
In a million tiny, easily unnoticed acts, I saw love happening in the marriages of my friends ... and it was good.
As for me and my marriage ... well, I loved Ryan by letting him go. Alone. Into the woods. Because he, only child and budding philosopher that he is, often needs alone time. Time to get away and stare at snow-capped trees and think deep thoughts and hear God speak. Early on, I didn't understand this need, and my feelings were easily bruised. But real loving is about knowing -- fully and truly knowing -- and now I relish his time away, eager to see his face without the tension wrinkles, feel his bear hug of hello because being away from me makes him miss me.
And he gave me? Permission to fudge on the budget just a tad in order to outlet shop with my lady friends and buy our diva-to-be a celebratory "can't wait to meet you" outfit. An outfit that makes me so excited (in a way that only patent leather red slippers can) that I might just leave it out in full view for the next four months.
And he gave me words ... car talk, deep and funny and long-winded, with a hand resting on my knee and a few badly sung verses of songs we love.
Keep your pink creme filled chocolates, Mr. Stovers, this is L-O-V-E.
Real L-O-V-E -- both glorious and difficult -- as we struggle to love in a way that is not of this world. For we are told:
Do not love the world or anything in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For everything in the world—the cravings of sinful man, the lust of his eyes and the boasting of what he has and does—comes not from the Father but from the world. The world and its desires pass away, but the man who does the will of God lives forever.
1 John 2: 15-17And, as that last line spoke to me, the man who does the will of God -- even when the will of God means doing the dishes when it's not your turn or forgiving a cranky, sarcastic comment or learning to cherish the things that make your spouse so different from you -- that man also loves forever. She understands that she can show love because she is loved ... loved with a tenacious, longsuffering, unmerited, unconditional love.
And knowing that -- or at least committing to live in search of the truth of it -- makes every day Valentine's.
[my contribution to Tuesdays Unwrapped @ Chatting at the Sky ... ]
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