I'm Not Getting Flowers Tomorrow

Here comes Valentine's Day...

no peonies for me...

I'm not getting flowers tomorrow.

I’m not talking about flowers from a friend, because I got those.

I’m not talking about a cupcake from a coworker, because I got that.

I’m not talking about little valentines or little notes or little hearts or little bears or little stars or little candies or gummies or glitter or anything that is pink, shiny, or snuggly.

Romance.

I’m talking about romance.

Kissing in the rain like The Notebook, romance.

I don’t have that right now. This is okay. 

To say that I don’t care spills over into a different place.

I do care. I care a lot! Romance is great! 

Some people have this romance. It comes out on Valentine’s Day. It comes out on my Facebook feed. It comes out on Pinterest. It comes out everywhere, and I manage to dodge the spirit of comparison to the very best of my ability. Other people’s romance does not upset me. 

Like I said, I’m not getting flowers tomorrow.

I don’t have that right now. 

On Valentine’s Day, I see the place in my life where that could be there. There is room for it. It’s not a void. It’s not something I need to survive. Jesus is my everything. He is the ultimate romancer of souls, He’s the one that I LOVE. Last year I wrote about this here. 

The same way that my heart stirs when yet another friend is having a baby, my heart stirs on Valentine’s Day. 

This is okay. 

It’s not a desperate stir. 

It’s not a ‘eat my feelings’ stir. 

It’s not a ‘cry myself to sleep’ stir.

If you’re doing those things, you need more of Jesus telling you you’re beautiful every morning, and more of Jesus telling you He loves you with the sky, and with the birds, and in the little ways He whispers. Jesus does those things. He fills the voids permanently. He is the hope. He is the love.  

It’s not Jesus during your single season. It’s still Jesus when you’re dating. It’s still Jesus when you’re engaged. It’s still Jesus when you’re a wife. It’s still Jesus when you’re a mother. Nobody comes along and relieves Jesus of His place in your life. And anytime you put someone where Jesus is supposed to be, you’re in for a fierce disappointment, because they (your boyfriend/husband/children) just won’t live up to Jesus, and because that place was made for Jesus, by Jesus, who made your heart. 

As for romance—the earthly, temporary, physical aspect of the word—there is room.
I won’t be prideful enough to demand it from God, as if the Creator of the Universe has forgotten to check on me, as one who’s baking a cake, and here I am, the cake, demanding He pricks me with a toothpick to see that I’m ready.

He will know when I’m ready. He will know when he’s ready.

Romance will come, and when it comes, it won’t be about finally getting some flowers on Valentine’s Day.