Harry and I have a little game that we like to play called texting-each-other-church-signs.  Here are a few of our favorites:

1. Jesus died to save “myspace” in heaven.

2. You couldn’t climb the mountain if it was smooth.

3. God can live anywhere, but he prefers your heart.

4. Weave it in this world, wear it in the next.

5. When you get to your wit’s end, you’ll find God there.

6. Give God what is right–not what is left.

7. Life is like a ladder; every step you take is either up or down.

8. Life without love is like fall without leaves.

9. Praying will give you a calm-plex.

10. If you think it’s hot now, trust God.

I’m reading a book that I thought I wouldn’t like.  Sorry JT!  I thought the idea of it sounded cheesy and I couldn’t imagine the execution being anything but laborious.  I’m reading it for my book group–just a small group of women who like to read and discuss what we’re reading.  I’ve probably liked about half of the books we’ve read over the course of about a year and a half.  And sometimes the ones I haven’t liked have prompted the best discussions.  So, being open-minded, I set to reading Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson.  In the book, an aging father writes to his young son in a journal/letter form.  See…CHEESY, right?

NO!  Not right.  It’s beautiful.  Here’s an excerpt:

“For me writing has always felt like praying, even when I wasn’t writing prayers, as I was often enough.  You feel that you are with someone.  I feel I am with you now, whatever that can mean, considering that you’re only a little fellow now and when you’re a man you might find these letters of no interest.  Or they might never reach you, for any of a number of reasons.  Well, but how deeply I regret any sadness you have suffered and how grateful I am in anticipation of any good you have enjoyed.  That is to say, I pray for you.  And there’s intimacy in it.  That’s the truth.”

Maybe I like this because my grandmother is ill and I am having to adjust to the reality that her life is nearer to the end than the beginning and I long to know her like this.  Maybe it’s because I like honest writing about life–even the everyday and the mundane.  Or maybe because I have relationships that I wish were more meaningful.  Or maybe it’s because I’d like to know the inner thoughts of my parents more than I do.

Oh, well.  Whatever the reason, I like it!

I have it!  Not sure how to overcome it.  I keep hearing all of the voices I thought I had conquered:

“No one cares what you have to say.”

“No one is going to read it.”

“No one can relate to your life.”

“Quit wasting your time.”

“You’re not really a writer.”

“It’s been too long now.  People don’t even stop any more to see if you’ve written anything.  Just give up.”

But you know, you really DON’T have to read if you don’t want to.  So, I’m going to keep writing because I need to do it for my own emotional well-being:  stay tuned!

Be mine! Be mine! Be mine! What does that even mean? Ownership? Aren’t we in the century of total equality and political correctness? How can that phrase still show up in boxes of chalky hearts today? Every year, it’s the same thing. Red hearts exploding at every turn. Pink teddy bears grinning stupidly. Chocolate, babies, cake pans, bread, the new and improved kid icon, lamps, bowls, tshirts, chairs, hair extensions—all in the shape of a HEART!

I’ve never gotten any gift-if I’m getting a gift at all-that wasn’t processed and handled by hundreds of people before it arrived in my hands. So much for a personal touch, huh! Hallmark tells us that love is buying a card that someone we’ll never meet wrote. Russell Stover, Whitman’s and Ghirardelli all tell us that love is sugar and caffeine side-by-side and packed into a heart-shaped box. Starbucks tells us that love can fit in a coffee mug. Verizon tells us that love is a cell phone that sends text messages with words the sender would never actually speak. What ever happened to a gift being an expression of how well you know the person receiving it? Huh?

And what about the new modern hearts, Fax me? Email me? Huh? I don’t feel loved when I get a fax. I normally feel annoyed because it’s that fax spam that promises a cruise but never delivers. And email, come on. I spend so much time opening and deleting emails from people I’ve never met that I don’t have time to respond to the people I have met! Love is not going to reach me in the form of an email. In fact, I could probably give you more examples of miscommunication through email than I could examples of sweet, bona fide, heart-felt, sincere luuuv.

Yea, sure, I’m married now, have a permanent valentine/someone to spend holidays with/the love of my life and all that jazz, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t still be cynical about fake love.

Commercial Valentine’s Day doesn’t quite make my Top Five Favorite Holidays list.