the "L" word.

'Tis true February is the month of love.

(Though, let's not be so culturally blind and forget that February is also Black History month...so...mark that on your calendars, too.)

My Valentine's Day this year was far from the norm- though, what is "the norm"?
Well, it all depends...

Let's flash back to Elementary school. Ahh, yes... The days of paper and paste. Wait a second... whatever happened to "paste"? You know...those little plastic tubs perfectly proportioned to aid in crafty projects for dirty-fingered tikes? I miss paste. So, yes...Elementary school. As the month of February would approach and the excitement of Christmas and the new year is quickly replaced by the anticipation for candy hearts and chocolate surprises, we would begin the busy construction of personalized Valentine's Day cards. Wal-Mart always played a major role in Valentine's Day; and, before Wal-Mart, it was the local drug store because even if you didn't hand-make your Valentines, you were sure to have your Mom buy a couple boxes of cards covered in your favorite cartoon or superhero. Childhood stars like the Ninja Turtles, Barbie, Batman- they were all celebrating Valentine's Day, too! Usually I'd sit at the kitchen table with a list my Mom wrote out of every student in my class so as to spell their names correctly. I'd mess up on about half of them (which truly is why I think they put like 32 cards in a box...) but WHY are there NEVER enough of those heart stickers? It's like the hotdog/ hotdog bun debacle.

Alas, the 14th would arrive. My Mom would usually have some sort of breakfast prepared (something warm, unlike the usual poptart or cereal,) I'd usually make a call to my sister for her birthday (she's the nice, older one..."...of COURSE she'd be born on Valentine's Day," I'd think as a kid,) and then with a grocery bag full of cards and some sort of item I was required to bring in for our class Valentine's Day party, we'd rush off to school for a day of fun..and...ALOT of sugar.

The Elementary school party was always conflict in my household when I was growing up. You see, I grew up in a small town in Connecticut where most of the men worked and a lot of the Mom's stayed home making quilts, eating granola, and driving Volvos. These were the kind of Mom's that had time and energy to make 5 dozen heart-shaped sugar cookies for the 4th grade Valentine's Day party. And, once the cookies were baked, frosted, and in the tummies of all my fellow classmates, we would all rant and rave about "these are so good. your mom is such a good cook!".

Yea, well...little Tyler and Jessica's mom should be a good cook- afterall, making those cookies was the only thing she had to do that week.

Then, there was my Mom. My Mom is a FANTASTIC cook. She claims she "cooks for looks, not for taste," HOWEVER, everything she makes tastes fantastic- and, when the party food sign-up sheet would come around the room, my pencil would so badly want to sribble my initials next to "cookies," "brownies," "chocolate cake,"..(you know...something I could claim "MY MOM MADE THIS!") but I knew those were naughty thoughts. Anytime I took the plunge and signed-up for anything that required baking or more than 2 ingredients, my Mom would literally want to kill me- shouting (lovingly, of course,):
"You need how many cookies baked?! Can't we just buy them? "
"WE DON'T HAVE ANY MORE MILK OR EGGS!"
"I HAVE TO GO TO THE STORE NOW?! IT'S 9 o'clock!"
"You need FIVE pans of Brownies?!?!?!..FOR, TOMORROW?!?!?!?"

Afterall, I have a hard-working mom.
She didn't slave all day over the stove, and, she didn't drive a Volvo.

So this.... this is why I became the plates/napkins girl.
Plates and napkins are the safe choice.
Moms like plates and napkins duty.

In my high school days, Vday was for high school cheerleaders- a locker overflowing with those incovenient, over-sized, sappy-eyed stuffed animals. Then, tragedy would strike: you can only carry so many bouquets of roses AND pompoms at the same time!! HELP!! So, in exchange for a chocolate cupcake with strawberry frosting and red sprinkles (go team!,) her athelete boy-toy would flex his muscles at the opportunity to be the extra set of hands our lovely little bundle of cheers would need for the day.

Then came college. OH, BROTHER.
A day that was once defined by how sticky your fingers were from paste and frosting was robbed of it's innocence and somehow transformed into this awkward, rather pressured day. As the Liberty knockouts would sport their cutesy pink and red sweaters, chats of dates and dinners would be exchanged in the halls. Yes, I've had a Valentine's date a couple of times; but, there have been more times that I haven't had a date. Never would I have considered NOT having a date to be a bad thing. In fact, I'd rather not have a date- BUT, at Liberty University, (a school sickly plagued by the obsession of relationship status,) if you do not have a date...you might as well have an infectious disease- or, you'll just wish you had one.

Why? Because everyone will bombard you with the question-
"sooooo, do you have a date tonight????,"
and, when you daringly, yet confidently respond-
"umm..actually, no..."
their countenance would lose it's vibrant fleshy hue and a response similar to an "oh. well..that's okay.."
will haunt and tease your singleness, causing you to feel this pressurized "hmm, maybe I should find something to do..." idea.


This year, I had the greatest Valentine's Day, ever. Seeing as my 5th grade class has never done much for Valentine's Day, I decided to do something for them because I wanted to..out of love. So, I planned a Valentine's day breakfast. We had pancakes, eggs n'toast, and fruit, enjoyed on pink plastic plates. In art class I had them all make mailboxes out of shoeboxes, which we covered with construction paper, glitter, and stickers so they could deliver Valentines to each other during the breakfast. This little party reminded me of the beauty and simplicity of being a kid. No talks of boyfriends, girlfriends, or dates...rather, we just enjoyed each others' company.

Valentine's Day has always seemed like a day of obligation.
Whether it's an obligation to bring in cookies (or, in my case, plates/napkins,) stuffed animals, or, find a date, there has always been an attached obligation.
I've been meditating on 1 Cor 13. for the past few weeks. I've read this passage many times, and so often this passage is quoted in movies, books, etc; however, I've never really taken the time to dissect it thoroughly.

"Love is patient,
love is kind.

It does not envy,
it does not boast,
it is not proud.

It is not rude,
it is not self-seeking,
it is not easily angered,
it keeps no record of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.

It always protects,
always trusts,
always hopes,
always perseveres.

LOVE NEVER FAILS"
(1 Cor 13: 4-8)

For two weeks I've read this passage over and over again; and, with each read, I've become more and more aware that I do not know how to love.

In a mental exercise, I placed my own name before the word "love," , and read the passage aloud-
"Lauren's love is patient, Lauren's love is kind..."

No.
No, I am not patient.
I am not kind.
I am embarrassingly rude.
I am most certainly self-seeking.
I get angry quite frequently- at stupid, insignificant things.
I keep record of wrongs done against me- especially wrongs that have broken my heart.
Who do I protect? Most certainly not myself, and not others.
Why don't I trust people?
Am I hopeful?
Why do I so easily give up? And, so many times, I feel like I have failed.

Why? Why? Why?

Because, I am not love.

And, all praise to God that "love," is not altered, influenced, or defined by who and what I am.

Then, I replaced the word "love" with "Christ's love".

The results were humbling. Insanely true. Perfect.

True, perfect, selfless, kind, patient love is that from God.

Pieces of our ideologies and concepts.... our impatient, unkind, selfless portion of love for one another as we carelessly, selfishly throw around the word "love," as if we were trading snacks at the lunch table- slyly attempting to upgrade from our ziploc bag of carrot sticks to a slice of gooey chocolate cake.

In our lifetime, we must strive to learn to love one another like Christ loves us; however, we will never fully know what love is until we're fully known in heaven.
Until then, everything is partial, incomplete, and empty.

But oh, how sweet it is to be loved by God- to an extent that I am completely incapable of fathoming the true depth and power until I am in His presence.

That....is love.


Love is NOT an obligation.