Valentine’s Day is upon us. Oh the glorious holiday that wreaks havoc on our relationships. The day when most of us are unsure what is called for. Do I make it a big deal? What if I get her a gift and she doesn’t get me one? Does that make things awkward? Is a date mandatory? If so who decides what we are doing? Should I try to make it romantic? (what even is romantic?)
Oh the consternation. So much pressure for one silly day. And that is the key to regaining some sanity. IT IS ONE DAY. We roll all this pressure into one evening to try to have the perfect night. But what if we took a different view of days like this?
What if on Valentine’s Day you could do absolutely nothing for the love of your life because all the rest of the year you loved them so well?
What if you didn’t have to do something special because every day you try to shower them with kindness and small acts of service?
What if all the roses and jewelry and chocolate meant nothing because they can’t compare to all the washed dishes, mopped floors, and scrubbed toilets you give daily without complaining?
Don’t hear me wrong, it is great to be romantic, thoughtful and creative for special days. But that should be an outgrowth of our daily love routine, not a massive break from it. It takes way more thought and creativity to find little ways to love each day. It takes serious creativity to maneuver an act of love between picking up kids from practice, getting dinner on the table and making sure someone changes the cat litter. It really is romantic to unexpectedly vacuum and wash the car, or just get the kids out of the house so mom can take an uninterrupted bath. Finding ways to love each day, that is the heart of any true romance.
Yesterday I was sick. 24 hour stomach bug thing. In a house with seven kids, having one parent down (even if it is me) drastically effects the day. My wife woke up and immediately had to make massive adjustments. She was a little frantic. She left the house with many kids in tow and I had no idea when she would return. Next thing I know, I am lying in bed and my wife is entering the room with a drink in her hand. A Sprite she picked up at Sonic. When my stomach is upset, the only drink I want is Sprite. I didn’t ask for it. She didn’t make it a big deal. She didn’t complain about the effort it took to get it with all the other things she had to cover for me. But it’s more than just a drink. It is love in a cup. A relationship distilled down to a moment of kindness. And for me, it is better than anything she might get me tomorrow. (unless she has convinced Led Zeppelin to reunite and do a private concert in our backyard, then that is better, way better, but short of that)