V-Day

Here we are, the day were the world is robotically forced to celebrate love. Please don't misunderstand. I'm not anti-Valentine's day. I've just been thinking outside my skin lately, trying to resurrect my old bohemian-beatnik carcass of an artist. The one that sees everything with a slant and no one understands. While being understood has its merits, being real is much more important.

A few years ago I decided to boycott the commercial gift-giving side of Christmas. I don't want a pile of future yard sale junk given to me by people who only bought it out of guilt or obligation. And I don't particularly enjoy going into debt and getting elbowed in the forehead at the mall trying to do the same for them. I guess that mentality has spilled over into Valentine's Day. I don't want someone to declare their love for me because Hallmark told them to. I'd rather get a card on June 17th for no reason at all other than "just because I was thinking of you." Despite my protestitory attitude, the holidays keep on coming - which is fine. I just hope no one is offended when they don't receive a Stepford valentine from me.

Again, please don't misunderstand. I'm not opposed to V-Day at all. In fact, as a connoisseur of chocolate, I am quite fond of any holiday that would prompt Publix to build a 8-foot shrine to my favorite food right inside their front door. I can even lose myself in the rushing waters of society sometimes. I didn't want to be the only one not getting any action on Valentine's Day, so I made an appointment with my gynecologist. Hey, it's better than some alternatives, right? At least he's clean, rich and wears gloves.

Anyway - as the smell of roses wafted through the office today and a wave of giggles, ooh's, and aah's washed over the department when someone was called to the receptionist's desk for a "delivery," I got to thinking about all this love and roses and chocolate. I am amused at people who were fighting or complaining yesterday, yet are as sweet as syrup today. Men who paid little attention to their wives 361 days a year, but suddenly their competitive man juices get to flowing when they hear Bob in the next cube ordering roses for his sweetie. And so begins the flow of shiny, red, heart-shaped boxes of candy and flowers of all sorts. I am amazed that for one day a year our society softens and it's deemed acceptable to be mushy gushy and googly eyed. When God commanded us to love each other, why does it take collaboration from Hallmark for us to live that out?

I amaze myself with how selfish I can be. I like to think of myself as compassionate and giving, always looking for ways I can help people. But mostly I think I want to help myself. I guess we all do. And when society gives us permission to be giving, we are. We are because everyone else is, and we don't want to stand out or be labeled a weirdo or scrooge. I am bothered by this because these holidays, the one's I have decided to "boycott" are the only times I bring this mentality to the forefront of my thinking. On June 17th, will it occur to me to send some a card "just because"? Probably not. Am I as eager to show others how important they are to me at random times when no one is looking? Often I am too busy stewing in my own life soup to notice anyone who isn't in my kettle. And let's face it, we all have a kettle. We are each issued one when we are born. The older we get, the bigger, heavier and fuller it gets. Stirring my own soup often takes precedence over anything else. It's not that I intend to ignore people, I just get so caught up in my own stuff that I forget to pull my head out of the sand.

So, I say...Thank you Hallmark and Russell Stover for reminding me that God commanded me to love others. And Lord, please help me to get over myself enough to remember to love others after all the candy hearts are gone.