My Valentine



              LOVE

I’m not an expert on love.

For me love has been easy. 

God gave me an incredible husband.

I’ve never had to doubt Pete's love or faithfulness.

His touch has always been a touch of love.

His patience with me knows few limits.

More than forty years after we spoke our vows, he still writes the most magnificent love notes. Unlike so many of our friends, both of us have remained healthy and able to care for ourselves and each other.

We are blessed.

I’m not saying Pete and I haven’t had our share of problems. We have. He’s disappointed me. I’ve disappointed him. But, by God’s grace and the love he has given us, we made it beyond each problem.  

I know this isn’t everyone’s story. That’s why I say I’m not an expert on love.

I’ve prayed with—even sheltered—friends who have felt the physical and verbal touch of an angry spouse—a touch that left bruises and the indescribable pain of cruel and depreciating words. These precious friends don’t know what it’s like to find a love letter tucked inside their suitcase when they travel without their husband, or to fold back the covers at the end of a day to find a wrapped piece of their favorite chocolate hidden under their pillow.

Yes, love has been easy for me. Even easier than it has been for our children.



Tia with three of her four children Jeremiah, Nathan, Sarah



I think of our daughter. Tia knows what love is all about. While still in his thirties, Tia’s husband Ryan was diagnosed with Pick’s, a terminal disease that attacks the frontal lobe of the brain, stealing away inhibitions, sense of right and wrong, memory, speech, ability to care for self. When he no longer knew her or their children, when he could no longer speak or care for himself, Tia’s love for Ryan shined. She still looked at him, touched him, spoke to him with uninterrupted love. Tia stayed by Ryan’s side to the end. Loyal to her vows.  



Chris and Pete celebrating their birthdays--only 1 week apart



I see the love between our son and daughter-in-law as our son fights stage-three colon cancer. With no complaint, Chris works a full time job and takes on the roles of both Peter and herself, running the children to their clubs and lessons, helping with their homework, solving problems, taking care Pete’s needs. In stressful and threatening times, we see the love in Chris’ eyes for our son. And we see the love in our son’s for her.

Pete (in orange) with his sisters, their husbands, his brother
 Richard (back row right), and Richard's wife
Terry (front row left). 

Pete and I marvel at the love his brother Richard has for his wife Terry. About fifteen years ago Terry suffered a debilitating stroke, one that took most of her speech, her ability to feed herself, walk, even swallow properly. Totally in love, Dick remains Terry’s faithful caregiver. They communicate. They travel together. They love each other beyond words.

On Sunday I thought about Tia and Ryan, Peter and Chris, Dick and Terry when our pastor talked about real—Agape—love. This is some of what he said:

Real love delights in giving—even when it is not deserved.

Real love gets joy from pouring into others lives.

Real love is not hindered by our worries, weariness, or wants.

Real love does not act according to category, culture, corruption. But it does act according to another’s cry.

Even though Pete and I have not yet been called to make the sacrifices some other couples have been called to make, God has poured his real love into us. And I am grateful!

Maybe you aren’t yet married. Maybe your marriage ended in the pain of divorce. Maybe the one love of your life has passed away and you long for the day you will be together once again.

Remember, someone loves you with real love.

He will never leave you.

And he will never disappoint you.

His name is Jesus.

Today I have a Valentine just for you.

I encourage you to read every word. If you know the tune sing. Let the words sink into your soul.

Aren’t they wonderful?

This is the love that is ours.

Forever.

The love of God is greater far

Than tongue or pen can ever tell

It goes beyond the highest star

And reaches to the lowest hell.

Could we with ink the ocean fill

And were the skies of parchment made

Were every stalk on earth a quill

And every man a scribe by trade

To write the love of God above

Would drain the oceans dry

Nor could the scroll contain the whole

Though stretched from sky to sky.

Oh love of God, how rich and pure

How measureless and strong

It shall forever more endure

The saints’ and angels’ song.

By Frederick M. Lehman

Based on Haddamut, an old Jewish poem.

Happy Valentine's Day!