I was planning on writing about Valentine's day today because it seemed like the right thing to do. I didn't know what I was going to write; just that I wanted to acknowledge the day somehow.
I've experienced a lot of Valentine's Days in my 57 years; to be honest, a lot of them have been ho hum. I have spent many of them over-the-top happy and many sad, lonely or depressed.
I remember a few that were more vivid than the others. One was while I was in college. My dorm room faced the parking lot and I sat and watched, what seemed like most of the day, one florist delivery after another. None were for me. I sat and dreamed of my forever love. Where was he and why hadn't I found him yet? That was a hard day. My 57-year-old self would have longed to tell my 19-year-old self to not worry; she would see many great loves.
Another was only a decade or so ago. My lover lived far, far away. He sent me gifts, but I longed to be with him, to talk to him, to hold him. I waited most of the day for his phone call. It seems he was tied up at a NASCAR party, too busy to call. I look back on that day and laugh now, but at the time? It was excruciatingly painful.
Today I am in Brea, California for work. I have a husband, Ric, so I no longer have to worry about not having someone to love on this day. We celebrated in New Orleans a few weeks ago because we didn't know if we would be able to spend the actual holiday together. It is usually a 50-50 chance because I travel so much for work. And even though Ric was able to visit me this weekend and we woke up together this morning, he is now on a plane, headed back to Denver. And I, once again, find myself alone on Valentine's Day.
It's way different, however, being alone on this day knowing you have someone as opposed to being alone and not having someone. Or far worse, being alone, having just lost someone, either to a break up or to death.
Each day I get a writing prompt in my inbox. Sometimes they are great and sometimes not so much. I may choose to write about the prompt or not, based on whatever I have planned to write about that day.
Today's prompt is, "Write about the first time you said I Love You as an adult." I had to think for a minute. We didn't say those three words in my family so I know that wouldn't have been the first time.
I remember the first time I said I love you to a romantic partner and that was when I was 15. I would not, however, consider myself to be an adult at that time, not even close. I was with Craig for most of my high school years. He was my first "love." I definitely loved him to the degree that I could love anyone at that young age. I'm fairly certain I had no idea what love was then. I don't even fully comprehend it now.
I am sure that I thought I loved many, many other men between Craig and when I fell in love with Kelly. I was with him for four years and we were actually engaged. We found each other when I was 20 years old so I guess he was the first person I said "I Love You" to as an adult.
Since then, there have been countless others who have had the thrill of hearing me say those words. Some have returned them, others have not. There is a song that says, "Those three words are said too much. They're not enough." I would have to agree. Three words do not adequately display the strong feelings I have had -- and have -- for so many in my life. God, my husband, my children, my friends, certain family members.
But, also, sometimes saying the words themselves is not enough. I have a book that's called, "Love Does." Also true. I can say I love you, but do my actions demonstrate it? In my own life, I would have to say oftentimes not so much. Do I want them to? Of course. But I am selfish and consumed with my own desires and plans and they become my priority. Plus, there's so many people to love! I have many, many people in my life who I care about. Then you when you throw in Jesus' command to "Love your neighbor as yourself," that basically takes care of everyone else. In short, it's a very tall order and I am a very short girl.
I know I let people in my life down often. On some occasions I have had people who love me enough to let me know when I'm falling short. I'm grateful to them. Most times, though, I already know it. Being self-aware is both a blessing and a curse.
So what's my point in all of this? I'm not quite sure, to be honest. I wanted to write about love today. I wanted to think about it as well. I am a hopeless romantic who has had the joy of finding love multiple times in her life. I have loved and lost. I have had my heart torn out and stomped on. But you know what? I am still here, I am still standing in the ring, ready and willing to take the blows that most certainly will come if I am willing to love at all. My hope is that you will be willing, too. I think you will find that it is well worth it.
Happy Valentine's Day!