February 14th has always been an indifferent sort of day to me, rather like President's Day. I still have school, the cafeterias are open during their normal hours, and I don't have the opportunity to talk in an Irish accent and tell people the real story of St. Patrick.
Since getting to college I have had the Hallmark holiday forced upon my attention, mostly by girls who hate it and by people of both sexes who think it can only be a happy day when they have found someone special with whom to spend it. So, as I say, it has never meant much of anything one way or another. I have never had occasion to either like it or dislike it, and I have always been of the opinion that any day that means cheaper chocolates than normal can't be all bad.
But this year it was different.
Expressing my love for people has always been difficult, and few thing have ever been harder for me than saying the common words, "I love you," directly into someone's eyes. Over time my years of hardness and long fears have been softened, but I recently realized how difficult it still is for me to say those words to God. At first, I thought getting into the practice would be unnecessary and even over-sappy, but I soon saw that my concern was actually that I wouldn't be able to do it. I wouldn't be able to look my Creator in the eye and say, "I love You."
I am still shy of Him. I am often still slow to find my words and squirm when my prayers get personal. I find myself unable to look up at Him when I speak my secret thoughts and confess my ugly sins and tell Him that I do love Him. I do love Him.
Old writing of mine comes back on this day and speaks what I knew already of Christ's love for His church. It speaks of His wedding vow to us, His beloved. I hear my past self saying, "He loves me unreasonably. He doesn't love me because it makes sense, because I am a logical choice, because He thinks me good enough. He just loves. He finds time for me, and thinks I am worth the inconvenience and impracticality--so much that He doesn't even think of the inconvenience as inconvenience." My past self is often wiser than my present self.
On this day I finally learn that God wants to spend time with me, even if we just sit in silence together. He doesn't rush me to reveal my darkness or my love. He waits for me and with me, patient to listen and patient to pursue. He reassures my fears and brings out the me in me, rather than the someone else. In His encompassing love I do not need to try to be better or smarter or stronger or daintier or differenter. "There is no condemnation," my Romans 8 mind reminds me, "your spirit is alive because of righteousness..."
On this day God shows me how patient He has been to hear my love expressed, and I speak softly into the stillness, still shy, but determined, to tell Him how much He means to me.
This year, February 14th was no longer just a day of the month. This year, it was Valentine's Day, and I was learning to love the One who died for me.
