Friday the 13th and Valentine’s Day: A coincidence?

Two years ago, I would have told you no. Back then, I’d dubbed Valentine’s Day “Single Awareness Day” and pretty much wanted to throw Whitman’s samplers at all the sappy commercials, cuddly couples, and coworkers who thought it was cute to wear red to celebrate the day.

Last year, in an attempt to get in a better frame of mind about the holiday and my eternal state of singleness, I decided to throw at “Love the One You’re With” dinner for my closest girl friends in Nashville, because A) I do love them and B) it was a nice way to serve other people rather than sitting around and moaning “why not me?” as all the sappy commercials and idiotic Lifetime Movies flickered on the TV screen. It was an utter disaster. The pizza dough I’d prepared the day before fizzled, the food wasn’t even close to being ready when people arrived, and I was mad about it when they did get there. Crash and burn.

This year, I’m surprisingly mellow. And surprisingly OK with Valentine’s Day. Not long ago at a friend’s wedding, another friend asked me if I ever wanted to get married. As I spoke the words, my answer even surprised me: “If it happens.” Because not long ago, I would have screamed yes to that question. I would have talked about wanting to be loved by someone who knew all my flaws and still thought I was worth committing his entire life to. I would have talked about my desire to be a mom someday. To grow old with someone. To get a better understanding of how God loves us through this relationship that involves continually putting someone else’s needs above your own.

And it’s not that I don’t want those things anymore; I do. It’s just that for the right now, I’m OK with being single. I’m OK with resting in the knowledge that God has a plan to profit me, not harm me. That’s not to say I don’t try to wrench these things I’ve committed to Him back time after time, because I do. I’ve just come to a place in my life and my journey of faith in which I realize that I can’t do this on my own—at least not in any meaningful way. I can’t navigate life, make decisions, manipulate things and others to get what I want. Because I make mistakes. Because I try to find wholeness in other people and relationships. Because I am weak and too often slip into my fallen nature. Because I can’t do it on my own. Because He is strong and I am oh-so-weak.

That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t mind a sack of SweetTart Hearts to arrive at my doorstep, though. (But I do still think the whole wearing red thing is dumb, though. I refuse. You know, unless I forget.)