A rainy afternoon.
Not typical for January, but wet, nonetheless. A good day to get some things organized.
Folding and arranging clothes in the closet.
Moving things from and cleaning out the lazy Susan. A veritable treasure trove. It always amazes me how many small appliances and kitchen gadgets fit on those two enormous whirling shelves.
Heading from the kitchen, I decided to get into the little cabinet.
The one upstairs that I don’t often venture into.
Things tend to be a mess in that small, cramped space. Just like some of the memories it holds.
Snippets of years past.
Newspaper clippings now fragile. Steeped in sepia.
Old photos from time gone by.
Pictures are worth a thousand words, they say.
Some of those images reveal a former self. Someone I hardly recognize now.
A life that seems almost foreign.
A place in time that I merely traveled through.
…
There are so many chapters. Pages written in this, my story.
Past perspectives.
Old lenses to peer through at life.
But coming to know my Jesus has changed everything for me.
And none better than my view of this time of year.
Of Valentine’s day.
…
An 18th century English twist on an historic feast-day of a saint. A February date that conjures up images of reds. Of pinks. Of flowers.
All things hearts.
All things love.
For as long as I can remember, I have sent valentines.
My Sweet Louise had a ribbon and felt Valentine bag that I made for her when she was young. How she looked forward to February! Little folded notes filled that pouch. Her name carefully penned, in all capitals, on each valentine.
Sticker hearts.
Tokens of friendship.
Sweet gestures of thoughtfulness.
But childhood passes and we come to see things differently.
Each year, this holiday fed right into my heart’s desires.
Decades of desperation.
My need to be seen.
To be admired.
To be appreciated.
Time passed. Relationships changed.
Underlying them all was a thick and insidious layer of lack.
The notion that I was only worthy if I had a man in my life to love me.
To cherish me.
Add a handful of emptiness.
Two large scoops of need. One for me and one for him.
Then, cover it all with a smothering icing of alcoholism.
A generous sprinkling of verbal abuse and threat.
And a fiery anger to light the candle atop the towering mess.
…
Meanwhile, I drank from the punch-bowl.
Ladling liquid envy into my crystal cup.
You see, no matter the beauty of the container, the contents were always the same.
Watching friends whose husbands seemed to love and appreciate them.
Cards.
Flowers.
Boxed chocolates.
Young lovers. Arms wrapped affectionately around one another.
All the while, I was aching for love to wrap around my heart.
That was the valentine party I found myself attending year after year.
That recipe for love was so similar to the one I’d grown up with. It resembled the tangled scenario I watched replayed in my childhood home, time and time again.
A concoction for chaos.
A formula for fear.
Deep down, I knew there had to be more.
Romans 8: 37-39
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
And that’s when Jesus stepped into my, then, convoluted path.
He met me in all of my pain.
In all of my ugly.
In all of my shame.
But He never winced for a moment.
In this world I always felt I was too much.
Simultaneously and ironically, I felt I was never enough.
Those twisted, thorny brambles of lies and deceit began to suffocate my thinking.
The enemy’s attempt to steal my peace.
But with our Savior, everything changes!
Confusion becomes clarity.
Turmoil turns tranquil.
…
In time He taught me. That nothing that this world can offer will ever fulfill our yearning to be loved.
Nor our desire for acceptance.
No person.
No relationship.
No amount of money.
No possession.
That void we carry within us ~ the one that calls us to be seen, is the same longing that can only be satisfied by our Maker.
The God who constantly pursues us.
Who treasures and loves us.
He who holds us dear.
Believe me, I love chocolate as much as the next girl.
But those heart-shaped boxes of sugar plums…well, they are just that.
Like the image of love that they portray, those tokens of affection are boxed in.
Limited.
Some of them even come with those little ‘maps‘. You know ~ the ones that tell you what each chocolate holds inside.
So you’re sure of what you’re getting. You know ahead.
Certainty.
…
By His grace, I’ve traded in my long-standing illusion of love.
This walk with my Jesus is so very opposite that box of confectionery contradiction.
In Him I know a love that is boundless.
One that knows no limitations.
This Love cannot be measured, only delighted in.
I never know how He will show me His love on any given day.
My certainty is in trusting Him.
Not this world.
Trusting His promise in the Word.
Romans 8:28
“And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God”.
Valentine’s Day looks so very different now.
All these lessons and luminous years later.
Now, in Him, I live a life of discovery.
In a world that is gift-wrapped by the Greatest giver.
He who IS love.
Not just in February, but every day, I see the tangible and extraordinary extensions of His never-ending devotion.
…
The warm sun on my face as I walk through the winter woods.
An ever changing canvas of sunrise painted on the morning sky.
His breath of life that fills my lungs each day.
The joy of watching Him mold and bless My Sweet Louise.
The promise of new life in a dormant season.
The vastness of His grandeur.
And the joy in giving Him glory through it all.
No longer does this holiday breed contempt and dismay for me.
My wandering heart has found its forever home in the arms of abundance and mercy.
My first and One real love.
My Jesus.
Truly yours.
Truly mine.
My Sweet Louise 
Very beautiful.
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