Valentine's Day

This was going to be a post about Valentine's Day.  I had drafted a nice little dissertation and rant about the things that I love and the things that I loathe about the holiday.  It was nice. But, then I reread it and I annoyed myself.  Does that ever happen to you?  I get sick of my voice, or in this case, my writing.  So I erased it.

Don't get me wrong, I loved the flowers and the gifts and the wonderful evening that the Mr. had planned and brilliantly executed.  I just didn't feel the need to recount every moment, because there was something more important that occurred during our date.

We had finished our dinner early and were walking down Main Street through the sleepy downtown, ducking in and out of smallish shops on our way to the dinner theater when it hit me.  An overwhelming feeling of, well, I'll call it "love" but it was more than that.

It was comfort.  It was security.  It was knowing that the man that held my hand, holds my heart, and I am safe.  Couples who have been married much longer than we may laugh, shake their heads, and roll their eyes at this, for they have known it for ages.  But, bear with me... I'm discovering.

I'm discovering that butterflies are slowly replaced with comfort.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not talking about letting ourselves go and ceasing to shower and living off of Cheetos.  And, fear not, I still get butterflies.  I still go weak at the knees with one look from him. I still get all dizzy-like when I stop and think of the treasure I have in him. And I still really like kissing him. But, the butterflies now have a companion.

This companion is a comfort that knows that I am known.  This comfort has replaced the "I hope I look okay in this outfit," and the "I hope he thinks I'm funny," and the "I wonder if he likes me as much I am like him..." and the "Is he going to propose tonight?" butterflies.  This man knows me and still chooses to spend his life with me and I have never known a comfort like this and I trust it will only grow with time. It may sound unromantic, but, between you and me, from one uber romantic to another, it's not.  It's definitely not.

I can tell you that our Valentine's Day date was wonderful.  Cole planned a spectacular evening, and we had a wonderful time, and I felt extremely loved.  I can also tell you that I would have felt equally as loved and as known had we stayed home in our sweats and played Scrabble. (Mostly because I would have beat him mercilessly)

I love Valentine's Day; but I also love knowing that my man does not need a holiday to celebrate us.  He doesn't need an excuse to bring home flowers, or make the bed, or leave love notes everywhere, or take me out on the town.  He does that on a Thursday... or a Monday... or in the middle of the day... just because.

I love getting dressed up and spending a night out; but I also love knowing that he finds me just as beautiful in slippers as he does in high heels.

I love getting flowers or thoughtful gifts; but I also love hearing him pray for me, or coming home to a clean kitchen, or listening to him make up songs to sing to me. I simply love the way he loves me.

And, honestly, I'm learning how little I know of love. But, I have a gracious Teacher and a willing lab partner and we're all in this together for His ultimate glory and our eternal good.


Happy Friday, Friends...



PS - Dear Miss Hicks (high school English teacher),  Please forgive the inordinate number of times that I began sentences with conjunctions.  I know you taught me better than that.  I'll learn someday.

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