When I was single February 14 was a day I believed every couple out there adored and felt adored on. A day for eating out, chocolate and wine.
4 short married years later, Valentine’s day is nearing quickly and I feel frustrated that we NEED to celebrate us in some way this Saturday. The once sparkling diamond, 4 years later has dulled. Not that my husband and I are at odds with each other this moment but we can ride as high as the wildest wave one moment and next thing without warning come crashing down onto a sandpaper shore.
In our ebb and flow of love, I wonder. . . .
Will Olive Garden feed me fondness not feuds?
Will sipping sweet wine wash down long lists of bitterness?
Will chocolate coat me with romance re-tasting sour with sweet?
Lovey-dovey feelings might have a hard time keeping up in our fast paced life. With feelings missing in action and the time on E, I bemoaned to myself-
Can we celebrate Valentine’s when it suits our schedule better, please?
When the restaurants aren’t packed,
when we haven’t already taken advantage of every single last babysitter,
when we’ve actually been able to produce a card with unforced words, and
when we are both communicatively in the mood for a night out together?
We root for routines but not when they cause us to rot. Buried beneath a busy life the seed of love germinates, hibernates til its season springs in our hearts. It’s a good idea to feed it, pull the weeds and put some miracle grow on it having faith that our service to the other will keep growing large and full. Romance in a marriage needs hands and hearts willing to sustain it. Willing to serve it. Willing to do the hard dirty work that keeps it alive.
Getting dirt under my fingernails for Jason is worth it. I’m feeling that more each year. So I’m (still) practicing the affirming, the listening, the giving in, the repentance, the extra mile, and the extra smile. Because our love is worth the work (even if I want my nails looking pretty)
My single expectations and hollywood’s picture of love doesn’t reflect my story. .At. .All. Holding the hand of our story, in all of it’s un-glamor and brokenness is when it just might begin to take deep root and flourish. That diamond can shine again if I take better care of it. We may not always feel love(ing) but we can still offer it when the feelings are MIA.
Sometimes Olive Garden does feed me fondness not feuds.
Sometimes sipping sweet wine washes down long lists of bitterness.
Sometimes chocolate coats me with romance re-tasting sour with sweet.
All for the sake of
l o v e ❤