So Yesterday was Valentines Day...

Ugh. Please gag me. My counter-culture artist self cannot stand holidays created for commercialism sake. This is the one day of the year made so that men can forget and women can hold it against their men. Really, if a person needs a day for their love to show extra affection, well, I'm terribly sorry. I guess I'm just horribly lucky. I'm shown a lot of love and affection every day, so to me, Valentines day just doesn't stand out amongst the 364 other days my guy tells me I'm special and important to him, through his actions, and sometimes through his words.

My guy isn't terribly romantic. He doesn't say sweet romantic things all the time. He doesn't do "romantic" things by societies standards. I can't remember the last time I received flowers. (Maybe two years ago?) We don't have a "song." He doesn't leave me sweet little notes everywhere. But what he does do is greater than flowers and chocolate. He loves me, flaws and all. And believe me, my guy puts up with a lot from me, for example, my hysteria when I panic. These are things that probably would have brought another man to his knees.

He cooks. He cleans. He takes care of the kids. He lets me sleep when he's exhausted and needs to sleep too. He sacrifices his needs and comfort to make me comfortable. He reassures me when I'm feeling uncertain. He does laundry. He works hard, day after day, to provide for the family. He allows me to be home with the children and lets me know that my job is just as important as his. He not only supports my art, but he's enthusiastic about what I do and puts aside everything to help me reach my goals. Funny and sweet, he's also very very very affectionate. He's my best friend and someone who I can confide in.

Not that I have a perfect life, because I don't believe anyone truly can. We can make the best of the choices we made, or we can sit around and think negatively about them, how it was, what a mistake we made. Instead he and I spend a good bit of energy keeping each other first, even above the kids (sacrilegious I know!) We have our "couch time" almost every night. And the children know, during that 15-30 minutes that we're "connecting" and catching up on each other's day, they cannot interrupt. We make time to have "dates" even if it means putting the kids to bed and then ordering take-out and eating at home.

After so many years, I have found some who find their relationship boring. For us, we find we're just starting to mesh and that makes it fun and interesting. It's almost a game to predict what is going to happen next. We know each other so well, he knows what my next move is. I know his. He gets a kick out of my being able to predict him. Last night, we had a tickle fight. Calling a "truce," he went into the kitchen. However, after 12 years of being married to this man, I knew he was actually standing around the corner, crouched with one of his weird expressions on his face. I don't remember what I did, but when he realized he wasn't going to be able to surprise me, he burst out laughing. We laughed so hard my sides hurt. Tears were streaming out of his eyes. That doesn't sound terribly boring to me.

When I chose to look at the glass half empty, I was miserable with my relationship. I'd see young love all around me and reminisce about how he used to stop and pick flowers from the side of the road and then think "What happened?" But I forgot to look at the fact that some where in the middle of these past twelve years together, we'd been to hell and back again. The funny thing about going through fire together, it either eats you alive, or refines and purifies the relationship. For us, it has been the latter. Our clay vessel has been fired, tested, and now stronger than ever. I stayed with him for the sake of our kids, knowing I couldn't bear the thought of what splitting up would do to their little psyches. I determined if I had to, I'd be his roommate. At the very minimum we were still very good close friends. I determined I could live forever with this man as a good, close, friend, a mere roommate. But I also determined i wasn't going to just settle for that. And I redefined what happiness and love looked like.

I learned that happiness is a state of mind that can be completely controlled. I could chose to be happy despite my circumstances, or I could be miserable and give up. I discovered that love is NOT a feeling, it is a choice, it is an action. You CHOOSE to love or you CHOOSE not to. Sometimes the feeling is there. Sometimes it's not. It's what people do during the times when that "love" feeling is absent really determines whether or not they are in "love" or in "infatuation." I realized a relationship cannot survive on infatuation alone. I learned that love means loving fully and not holding back anything, even when the other person has cut the heart to the quick. I found that as much as we can love someone, sometimes a line has to be drawn in the sand. I discovered Jesus' love for me, and in turn, I realized I had to show that same love for my guy. I didn't know that the end result of my discoveries would be so beautiful.

So, in the end, I don't really need a holiday to tell me how good I have it. I don't need trinkets and sweet nothings to know that he loves me. He fought long and hard to keep me, and I fought long and hard to keep him. We sacrificed our selfish wants for each other, for our children. And to me, that is a greater gift than something that will wilt and die in a matter of days.

Could we slip and fall again? Sure. Anything is possible if we let our guards down. But that's just how love is, that's why it's an action word and not a feeling. If love isn't fed and cared for, it will slowly fade away until one day the realization sets in that it's gone. But the wonderful thing about love is, it can be found again, and again, and again, if given the chance. It's an everyday thing, not a Valentines Day thing.